The Hunt for Black Tom
by Khalida
Summary: After the death of an X-Man: former German terrorist, Das Phantom, joins an ex-criminal, a death-row escapee, and X-Men alike in a plot for revenge. But can they overcome the mysteries that lie between them, or will their secrets be their downfall?
1. Most Hated

__

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt Wagner, Robert Drake, Jean Grey, Erik Lehnsherr, Tom Cassidy, Peter Rasputin, Sean Cassidy, and Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet Black, Kristina James, Tamiko Kaneshige, Caleb Tucker, Deanna Barnes, Matthew James, Tina Andrews Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited.

X-Men: "The Hunt for Black Tom"

"If I'm wrong, then I'll pay for it. If I'm right, yeah, you're gonna hear about it. Cause I'll try, yeah I'll try for it. I'll try! I'll try! Even die for it!" ~Van Halen, "Don't Tell Me What Love Can Do"

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Chapter I: Most Hated

A cold blast of wind stung at Jet's fingertips as he made his way out of the taxi, causing him to pull his long black trench coat tighter around his strong and slender frame. Blinking his strangely violet eyes against the snowflakes, he grimaced and proceeded up the marble steps into the massive courthouse. Clutching the handle of his briefcase, his palms beginning to sweat, he checked in at security clearance and made his way to the courtroom.

Running his free hand through his wavy black hair, he pushed open the door with his shoulder and headed down the aisle to the defense table. The courtroom was empty at this time, empty and silent. His shining black shoes clicked professionally on the alabaster floors, complimenting his clean-cut grey Armani suit. Placing his briefcase on the table, he removed his trench coat and folded it over the back of his chair. Reaching for his briefcase, he punched in the code and the locks clicked simultaneously. Opening it up, he began to sort through some of the case evidence and specifics.

"Were you always so professional?" a voice asked out of the silence. Looking up, Jet blinked twice when he spotted a young woman most likely in her early twenties. Leaning her elbow on the witness stand, she smiled and ran a hand nervously through her chin length blonde hair. The raven skirt she wore fell inches past her knees, accenting the fair skin of her legs. 

Straightening slowly, Jet grinned maliciously and answered, "No, I guess not." His gentle English accent slid over his tongue gracefully, rising and falling in a wave of sound. There seemed to be a slight hiss in his speech, barely noticeable but still there. The woman laughed, biting her lip habitually and swaying on her knees. "Is that really you, Kris?"

Cracking a wide smile, the woman nodded her head and stated, "All twenty-five years of me. How are you, Jet?"

Gesturing at his clothes and then the room, he replied, "I couldn't be better. I was made for this job." At this, Kris could not help but chuckle, causing Jet to cock his head to the side in curiosity. 

"I'm sorry," she let out. "It's just that ten years ago, I could not see you as a lawyer. You were more likely to be the guy taking inventory at the tattoo parlor." She laughed again, her blue eyes twinkling in the florescent lights. 

Laughing, Jet shook his head and asked, "Where have you been for the past, what, eight years?" She smiled and held up nine fingers. "Nine?" he inquired, astonished. "Wow, that's about as long as Tina and I have been married." At this, his voice caught in his throat and he let his head fall slightly. "I mean," he restated softly, "that Tina and I were married about that long ago. So, where have you been?"

Softness growing in her gaze, she answered, "Germany. About two months after yall got married, I went to Germany to continue my studies."

"You were only sixteen then, right?" 

"Yeah, but the Professor suggested I go. I had been taking German classes for nearly five years, and I was getting pretty fluent. So, Xavier asked Kurt if he would like to take me to Germany to finish with my academic studies and, you know, immerse me in the language." With a knowing shake of her head, she let out a chuckle and muttered, "It was probably the best thing for me at the time anyway…" There was a moment of silence as Jet nodded in understanding. She ran a hand through her hair nervously and added, "I actually studied in normal Gymnasium, and after that I even completed my studies at a university in Kärnten, Austria." Staring over at him, she asked, "So, what's up with you?"

Glancing around the room, he shrugged and muttered, "There's so much to tell. But as of late, nothing really. I've just been trying to get back to the normal pace of things."

Hearing that, she strode forward and gave him a huge embrace. He returned it, holding her tight against him. Her eyes sparkling on the edge of tears, she kissed his cheek and said, "I had to see you. After the news about Tina, I had to." At this, she stopped, because Jet still held her as tight as ever as though he was afraid to let her go. 

"It's been difficult," he whispered softly, holding her even tighter. She ran a hand over his hair to comfort him as he muttered, "It's been about three months now. Damn Tom Cassidy!"

"Shh..." she soothed him, "it's okay. She'd want you to be doing this. She only wanted the best for you." Nodding, he released her, but she continued to rub his arms to soothe his nerves. "Don't worry about it right now. We'll talk about it later, okay."

"Alright," he consented, absentmindedly leaning over and shifting through some of his papers. 

Looking down at him, she smiled with a look in her eyes that showed only love. "What is this case about?"

"Forslund, David, age twenty-seven. He is being tried for first degree murder of PFC Richard Weylen," Jet started, rattling off the information tonelessly as though he had done it a million times. Nodding, Kris realized that he probably had. "He was sixteen when it happened. He's been appealing this case for seven years. It doesn't look good, but we have this one last chance." 

"How did it happen?" Kris asked quietly, as though if she talked any louder, she would be tried herself.

"Oh, the usual. It was the first time his powers, well you know. Richard just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time." Adjusting the papers, he placed them back into his briefcase, only to take out another notepad and a pen. Checking his watch, he shook his head and muttered, "Thirty minutes... people will be coming in soon. You better go, unless you want to stay and watch. But this place doesn't take well to…."

"I'll stay," she said, smiling. "I'm the Phantom, remember. No one will even notice I'm here." At this, she winked, and Jet let out a laugh.

"Okay," he muttered, smiling in return, "it will do me well knowing you are here." Nodding, she smiled brightly and disappeared right before his eyes. He listened as her heels clicked as she made her way to the back of the room. "Better take those heels off, Phantom, if you don't want anyone to hear you."

"Astute observation, Captain Obvious," her voice came from nowhere. And the removing of her boots could be heard from the back of the courtroom. There was a long pause before something heavy dropped on the table. Looking over, Jet stared at her heeled boots, lying lackadaisically on top of his briefcase. "I'm leaving them with you," she said, laughing. "Put them under the table or something."

"Alright," he breathed, placing the boots under the table next to his chair. "If one thing has remained true about you, Kris, it's that you still don't act your age." He heard her quietly giggle from far off.

"Whom on earth are you talking to?" someone asked loudly. Turning quickly, Jet looked into the round face of a man standing in the doorway.

Drawing himself up, Jet gulped and stated, "I was just thinking out loud. Good afternoon, Dennis." The man scoffed slightly, making his large belly shake up and down against his broad chest.

"It's still Doctor Owen to you, boy," he commanded firmly, sending the young man a glare that ran his skin cold. Walking down the aisle and closer to Jet, he scanned his figure and said, "I see that even in the court you still where those silly colored contacts. When are you going to learn that your generation has grown up?"

"Do you want me to hit him?" Kris's voice whispered into his left ear. Shaking his head, Jet elbowed her invisible form nonchalantly. An audible gasp escaped her lungs, causing Dennis to look at Jet curiously. 

Biting his lip, Jet muttered, "The storm must be picking up with the sound of that wind. I hope this won't last too long. I have some more things to do today."

"Ooh, nice cover," Kris whispered again, faking his accent in a teasing manner. 

"Shh..." he let out, only causing more stares from his opposing attorney. Clearing his throat, Jet opened his briefcase and stated, "I--um--better do some last minute catching up."

* * *

"This court is now in session," the tall judge said, slamming his gavel down hard. Everyone in the crowded room sat, a rustle of restlessness spreading like a wave over the courtroom. The appeal then began, Kris looking on in anxiety. "Bring in the accused," he called from his high pedestal, and the doors in the back opened. There was a clanking of shackles as a pair of wardens escorted David into the silent room. His was dressed in the customary orange jumpsuit that all prisoners wore, and his ankles and wrists were bound in heavy metal shackles. 

Catching a breath in her lungs, Kris could not understand the wave of emotions and amazement that suddenly overtook her. She leaned against the wall and stared at him, her mouth slightly open, although no one could see it. Her eyes searched his form rapidly, over and over until she had taken in every aspect of his physique. He was a strong man, standing inches taller than she, with a pair of broad shoulders, and a strong and slender neck. His dark brown hair glistened in the florescent lighting, and it hung down to the base of his neck in thick wisps. His eyes were behind a pair of thin glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose, and his thick lips were drawn tight as he walked in, his eyes focused on the creamy floor. Holding in her breath, she took a step forward and followed him with her eyes. Something inside of her had jumped into her throat, wanting to escape in an excited breath of air, but she held it in, amazed.

"Please sit," the judge directed as David looked at Jet and sighed. Jet pulled out his client's chair and led him into it, his support and compassion shining brightly in the dank room. "Now, Mr. Forslund, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?"

Raising his right hand, David leaned forward into his microphone and stated, "I do." His accent was soft but obvious, and Kris could not help but wonder which country he himself had come from. It was obviously Germanic or Scandinavian, but soft and gentle, revealing something somewhat passive and almost shy about him. 

"Please give me your name and where you were born," the judge commanded, the pen in his hand ready to scratch the entire testimony in all exactness.

Clearing his throat, David leaned forward hesitantly and said, "My name is David Forslund. I was born in Uppsala, Sweden."

The appeal continued, and at his appointed time, Jet stood and walked forward, placing a manila folder in the judge's hand. "What I have just given you, your Honor, is my client's recent health records, and a transcript of his original confession to this crime. As your Honor will see, my client is in perfect physical and mental condition, and he also confessed to killing the late Richard Weylen." The words spilled out of Jet's mouth almost too rhythmically, like water flowing over smooth stones, and the judge examined the documents carefully, his lips pursed. "And from that honest confession, your Honor, one can see that he is no more responsible for the death of Private Weylen than Richard was."

"But, Mr. Black, how can that be possible if he himself confessed to committing the crime?" the prosecutor interjected, standing from his seat across the front of the room. Jet glanced to the judge, who nodded for him to proceed with an answer.

Drawing himself up tall, Jet adjusted his suit jacket and answered, "Because, _Doctor Owen_, it was accidental, and David had no control over what was happening to him."

"And what--may I ask--happened to him exactly?" Dennis asked with a sneer. There was a silence, and Jet sighed, letting his head fall for a moment.

"My client," he began hesitantly, "had a moment in which his body was--fighting against him. A seizure, if you will. He had no control of his muscles or whether or not he could even move."

There was a pause, and Dennis asked, "If it was indeed a seizure, Mr. Black, how then, did he manage to fire strange bolts of intense light energy in Private Weylen's direction, charring the victim's body?" At this Jet opened his mouth but closed it again, his thoughts tangled in a knot of confusion. Kris accidentally whimpered slightly, bouncing on her heels, hoping he would regain his footing. In this moment of silence, and while he had the courtroom's attention, Dennis shouted astutely, "How many of your clients have actually been acquitted, Mr. Black?"

"Two, Doctor," Jet answered quietly.

"And how many cases have you defended, sir?" Dennis continued slyly.

"Six, sir," Jet replied. 

"And how many have actually been put to death by means of execution?"

"One," Jet barely whispered, his voice catching in his throat. "Shellie Kimball, age twenty. The others all either somehow escaped and were never seen again, or in the case of Kevin Josephs, they committed suicide, sir."

"That's strange," Dennis began, taking a step away. But turning he stated loudly, "There are some that say that you harbor and defend your clients, because they are mutants, Mr. Black." Jet's eyes shot to Dennis in sudden trepidation, and his jaw set itself as he bit down the back of his teeth. "Do you," Dennis asked crudely, "indeed, do _you_ harbor mutants, Mr. Black?"

From what she could see, Jet was struggling with an inner battle between his rebellious spirit and his newly acquired law-abiding beliefs. He stared over at David who stared back, fear in his deep blue eyes. Opening his mouth, ready to speak, he closed it again and his eyes searched the room as though he was looking for his reply in the people around him. The silence reigned even longer and Dennis finally looked at the judge and said, "I believe, your Honor, that you have your answer." With that, he returned to his seat, a smug grin spread across his face.

"Is this true, Mr. Black?" the judge asked quietly. 

Heaving a sigh, Jet stared up at the judge and whispered, "Yes, your Honor." There was an audible mumble that swept over the people, causing the judge to call for order. Walking to the table, Jet took a drink of water and stared at the back wall. "It comes not down to the fact whether or not my client is a so-called 'mutant', your Honor," Jet started, his self-assurance returned. "It comes down to the fact, that Mr. Forslund had no control over his actions. You see, sir, that when the mutant gene is first triggered, it can sometimes cause violent side effects."

"We all know this story, Mr. Black," the judge interrupted. "We have all watched the news, we have all heard the speeches given for pro-mutant organizations, so there is no need for a biology lesson." It suddenly seemed as though the judge's attention had been switched off, and he no longer cared about Jet's case. "I am not a prejudice man, Mr. Black, but this man is a danger to society, and obviously committed his crime knowingly. I have no other choice but to deny your request. I hereby declare that David Forslund will be executed by means of lethal injection in precisely three weeks. This case is closed, and this court is adjourned." And with that, he slammed down his gavel and exited the room before Jet could say a word.

The wardens then came to David and hoisted him out of his seat as he stared forward blankly. Jet merely stared after him helplessly as they ushered him out of the room, watching the tears run from David's eyes.

The courtroom slowly emptied, and Kris ran to her friend, making sure to only appear once the room was clear. "Oh god, Jet, what are you going to do?" she cried, putting her hands on his shoulders. He stared at her stiffly, tears on the edge of his violet eyes. "Not a prejudice man, my ass!" she shouted. "Is there nothing left sacred anymore? Even our justice system hates us!"

Shaking his head, he muttered, "I can't lose another one, Kris. I cannot." Stamping his foot childishly, he ran his hands through his hair and shouted, "God, I'm so stupid! I should have stopped while I was ahead. I will not let Tina die again!" This last sentence he yelled loudly, his soft voice going harsh, echoing off of the marble walls. And he sank to the floor, weeping openly. Kris sat down beside him, holding his head against her chest as she let a stray tear escape her eyes. The room was now silent and empty except for the sound of Jet's tears, and the wind outside whistled against the window panes, a draft of air sending her into a spell of shivers as the sunlight faded and darkness crept in.

* * * 


	2. Of Breakins and Runaways

_Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt Wagner, Robert Drake, Jean Grey, Erik Lehnsherr, Tom Cassidy, Peter Rasputin, Sean Cassidy, and Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet Black, Kristina James, Tamiko Kaneshige, Caleb Tucker, Deanna Barnes, Matthew James, Tina Andrews Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. The song, "I Need a Hero", which is quoted here, does not belong to me. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited._

_X-Men: "The Hunt for Black Tom"_

_"We all fall down. It's the getting back up that really counts. We live and we learn to help someone up when it's their turn. In life there's only one guarantee, your feet won't always be on the ground. Cause we all fall down." Diamond Rio, "We All Fall Down"_

* * *

Chapter II: Of Break-ins and Runaways

The next few weeks flew by faster than any summer Kris could remember. The entire time was spent searching for a way to save David from the inevitable. While Jet spent every waking moment speaking to court official after court official, pleading for another appeal, Kris faced reality and devised a plan.

Standing in front of her wardrobe in Jet's guest bedroom, she ran a hand over a black trench coat that would have swept the floor if she were wearing it. Below it, on the wooden floor of the wardrobe sat two ebony colored boots, knee high and laced to the top. Staring at them intently, she bit her lip and shook her head. "Jet wouldn't like it," she muttered aloud to herself. But she still reached forward and fingered the coat, a hidden lust gleaming in her blue eyes.

"Why won't the Professor speak to you?" Jet suddenly asked from the doorway. His eyes had changed since the court, they were still their vibrant violet, but his pupils were no longer circular and small. Instead, they were thin, vertical ovals that stretched from the bottom to the top of his iris, appearing snake-like in the lamplight. Jolting from her reverie, she turned to him with a falsely flabbergasted look on her face. "You have been gone for almost ten years, and you haven't even bothered to go to New York to see everyone. Why?"

Shrugging, she looked back in the wardrobe to avoid his gaze and casually muttered, "The Professor doesn't approve of the person I've become. You see, I got into a lot of trouble over in Europe. Let's just say that I broke the law more times than Xavier can count, and he seemed to think that I was taking advantage of my abilities. And I don't feel like going back. I've grown up, my studies are finished. I have no need to go back there. I made no obligations that would require me to go back."

"You've made every obligation," Jet argued, taking a step into the room. "Professor Xavier pulled you out of a situation that no one would ever want to be in. He took you in when no one else would."

"What's your point?" she asked, her temper growing short.

Sighing in exasperation, he muttered, "You still don't get it, do you? He taught you what it meant not to be ashamed of yourself. He taught you who you really were."

"No, he didn't!" she shouted suddenly, slamming her fist on the wardrobe door. "I only found myself when I left that place. You forget, Jet, that I was in that place when I lost myself."

"How could you lose yourself, Kris!"

"My brother died before my eyes, Jet! And there was no way I could stop it," she yelled, striding to him, her face in his. Shaking her head angrily, she added, "And it wasn't anyone's fault but mine and that damned Charles Xavier who let him go through with it." Jet made to argue with her, but she interrupted him, saying, "Magneto would have never killed Matt if the Professor hadn't have let him go. Sure, he thought that Matt was ready to participate in a mission, but he wasn't. And I wasn't ready to let him go… I never will be." Tears on the edge of her eyes, she muttered, "That's what real pain is, Jet Black."

"Don't lecture me on real pain!" Jet cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. "I lost my wife to a mad criminal! I can't even visit our only child but twice a year, and even then she doesn't recognize me. I know what pain is, because I will never get this dagger out of my heart!" Pushing her roughly to the floor, he screamed, "Don't you dare try to tell me what real pain is!"

Weeping with her head pressed to the carpet, Kris screamed in anguish and pounded her fist on the floor. "God, it's so unfair…" she whispered, her body shaking in sobs. Jet stared down at her, seething—his breath heavy between his tightly drawn teeth. Moments passed as he struggled with the hot tears in his eyes. His gaze softened and he took a step forward.

Bending down to her, he pulled her into an embrace and rocked her. Whispering, he said, "I know. I know."

* * *

On the eve before the execution date, Kris and Jet were no more closer to a solution as they sat outside at sunset at that chilly evening. Pacing to and fro along the deck, his boots clicking against the polished mahogany, Jet ran his hands through his raven hair, searching for a way to undo this dilemma. The sun was setting behind him, shining gold on the leather of his trench coat.

"We've thought through every option, and this is the only way." Kris argued as she sat in a chair, her dark blonde hair blowing with the wind.

Shaking his head, Jet muttered, "There must be another way out of this, Kris. I cannot do it like that."

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, she eyed him firmly and stated, "You see, you won't have anything to do with it. It will just be me. I've done numerous things like this. I already have a reputation as it is, and this won't be that big of a deal." A moment passed as Jet returned her stare, his eerie snake eyes boring into her. "They are just humans."

Holding up a hand to stop her, he shouted, "Please! Don't start talking like your father. There must be another way."

Running a hand over her face in annoyance, she stated, "Okay, nevermind. Forget I said any of it. If you want to abide by the law and let an innocent man die, so be it."

He looked over at her, his eyes scanning her doubtfully. After a moment, he inquired, "You won't interfere?" She shook her head, her hair flowing on a cushion of air. "You promise?"

Standing, she walked to him and said, "You know I don't make promises..." With that, she walked back into the house, closing the glass door slowly behind her.

Jet stared after her, his heart pounding loudly against his rib cage. Sighing, he put his hand to his forehead and struggled with a sob.

In the guest bedroom at the back of the house, Kris sat on the bed, staring intently at the telephone on the nightstand. Her fingers were fidgeting in her lap as she finally sighed and reached forward. Dialing in a number, she waited as it rang. "Come on, Kurt, pick up," she mumbled out-loud as it continued to ring.

Finally: "_Guten Tag. Hier ist Kurt Wagner._ Hello, this is Kurt Wagner," a man answered, causing Kris to sigh in relief.

"_Hallo, Kurt_. _Hier ist das Phantom_. Hello, Kurt. This is the Phantom," Kris replied, identifying herself, the German sliding over her tongue with fluent grace.

"_Oh, wie schön!_ Oh, wonderful!" Kurt exclaimed excitedly. "_Hallo, Kris. Ich habe gedacht, dass du früher mich angeruft hattest_. I thought that you would have called me earlier." His accent was thick, and somewhat difficult to understand over the long distance phone line.

"_Es tut mir leid_. I'm sorry." she apologized quickly_. "Ich brauche deine Hilfe, Kurt. Wo bist du_? I need your help. Where are you?"

"In New York," he answered. "_Warum_? Why?"

_"Ach, es ist Jet. Sie werden David ermörden! Wir müssen etwas machen. _Oh, it's Jet. They're going to kill David! We have to do something." She answered, playing with her hair habitually.

"Ok, _wann brauchst du mich_? When do you need me?" he asked quickly. "_Ist es am morgen? _Is it tomorrow?"

"_Ja, es ist morgen Abend_. Yes it's tomorrow evening," she let out, checking her watch habitually. "_Ich brauche dich morgen. Meindestens zwölf Uhr_. I need you tomorrow. By noon at the latest."

There was a short silence, then, "_Ja, das ist OK. Hoffentlich komme ich punktlich an. Ich werde dich treffen. _Yes, that's OK. Hopefully I will get there on time. I'll meet you."

"Ok, and don't forget your image inducer," Kris said with a smile. "_Vielen Dank,_ Kurt! Thank you."

"_Auf wiedersehen_! Goodbye!" Kurt gave his farewell before Kris returned the favor and hung up.

Laying her head on the pillows, Kris stared over at the open wardrobe. There she saw a black mask hanging from the top shelf. Standing up, she walked to the wardrobe and picked up the mask. Placing it over her eyes, she tied it under her hair and stared at herself in the mirror. The mask hid her nose, upper cheeks and eyebrows, shadowing her eyes in the light. Smiling, her eyes burned brightly, and she parted her lips and sang out, "Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising arms?" After a moment of looking at herself, pleased, she answered quietly, "She's right here."

* * *

Sweat was rolling in thick droplets down Jet's forehead as he sat in the stiff chairs behind the glass window, staring into the execution chamber. Only moments before had he counseled David, trying to comfort him. But he felt that his advice had been unheard, and a thick wave of guilt had begun to overtake him.

Glancing around the room, he stared at the faces of Richard Weylen's family, Dennis, and a small group of others who had to be some of Richard's closest friends. Though, one man caught his eyes more than the others. He wore a high collared trench coat and a wide brimmed hat that shadowed most of his face. His hands he had dug into his pockets, and he never took his eyes off of the floor. Holding his tongue, Jet refrained from speaking, afraid that any sound from him would cause some sort of uproar around the victim's family.

A moment later, the door to the chamber opened, and Jet watched as three police officers escorted David into the room. David looked helpless and frail, Jet aware that he probably had not eaten in days. His blue eyes searching, they came to rest upon Jet, and the young lawyer's heart ached with pain at the sadness in his client's eyes. "I'm here," Jet whispered, knowing that David could not hear him.

The door closed loudly and heavily, and the guards began to strap David's arms, chest and legs to the metal platform on which he would meet his death. Putting his hand against the glass, Jet stared hard at his friend, his tears now evident upon the edge of his eyes.

A moment of silence passed, and the officers were readying everything around David who looked around at the people through the glass in sorrow. The next moment was so quick and sudden, that Jet had no idea where to look.

Someone suddenly appeared inside of the chamber, her hair falling over a black mask that covered her eyes and nose. She wore a high collared trench coat over a close fitting black shirt and pants that ended just above a pair of raven boots that laced up the front. She leaped at a nearby guard, the long black cape of her coat flowing on a current of air behind her, and knocked him to the ground with a swift swing of her leg. Pulling out a gun from within her coat, she pointed it at the guards and shouted, "_Am Boden_! An the floor!" The guards instinctively fell to the ground, pulling out their own guns.

Immediately she disappeared from view, and the men did not know where to shoot. From his left side, David felt a breath along his neck, and then a soft whisper, "It's okay. I'm here to help you." Suddenly she appeared next to him, and he saw that she was smiling. In the next moment, she faded again, and he felt two hands grasp his shoulders. _Relax,_ he heard her voice whisper inside of his head, and the next moment he was looking into her blue eyes, while the rest of the room around him was suspended in a slightly grey haze. The noise and shouting around them was loud, but she took no notice of it as she used a hand to undo his bonds, while continuing to keep her other hand flat against his chest.

When the straps were undone, she grasped his right hand and whispered, "Don't let go of me." With that, they headed to the door. She made him crouch close to her in the doorway, their hands clasped together tightly, and she shouted loudly, though her mouth did not move, "Nightcrawler, _herkomm_! Come here!" There was a pause, and David realized that the shouting was resounding inside of his mind. The guards were searching the room in a dazed confusion, and she shouted again, "Nightcrawler, _herkomm_! _Wir sind bei der Tür_! We're at the door!" At that moment there was a puff of black smoke accompanied by a loud _Bamf_ sound. Closing her eyes, the haze around them disappeared and a man wrapped his arms around David's shoulders and in a moment they disappeared in a puff of black smoke. The haze returned as she willed herself back into her invisible world, and she stood and ran to the opposite corner of the room.

Another moment passed, and the man returned in a puff of smoke, and she willed herself back to visibility. He disappeared and reappeared with his arms wrapped around her waist and with a _Bamf_ and a puff of smoke they disappeared.

Appearing inside a car next to David who was sitting in his seat uncomfortably, almost shocked, Kris smiled and said, "Nightcrawler, step on it. But not too fast so that we aren't noticed." With a tip of his hat, Nightcrawler started the car and they began to drive. Looking over at David, she cocked her head to the side and said, "Hi, I'm Kris." She held out her hand and he shook it hesitantly, his brow furrowed. "I'm a good friend of Jet's, if you're curious. But he had nothing to do with this, so don't get mad at him." David smiled slightly. She had just saved his life. How could he be angry?

There was a silence before Nightcrawler cleared his throat from the driver's seat. "Oh yeah," Kris said, coming to her senses, rubbing her throat in slight annoyance. "This is Kurt Wagner. He's also a good friend of Jet's." Smiling, Kurt nodded his head and suddenly his appearance changed. His skin color transformed from a tanned olive to a dark blue. And his eyes changed to a vibrant yellow. He smiled again at David's terrified and awed expression, and the young man saw that Kurt's teeth were sharp and pointed. Next to him, Kris was busy removing her gloves and mask. He watched as she untied it and shook her head to get her hair to fall back into its usual place.

Blinking his eyes, he thought there was something familiar about her, so he leaned forward and asked quietly, "Do I know you? Have we met before?" Looking deep into his eyes, she grinned slightly and blinked.

"That's strange… It sure seems like it, doesn't it?" she muttered curiously. Shrugging her shoulders, she shook her head and turned back to her business and began to remove her coat. He watched her in silence as they made there way to the suburbs. He then noticed that she had lain the pistol on the seat between them, and his gaze turned to one of curiosity. She saw his stare, and said, "Go ahead." Looking to her, confused, he bit his lower lip for a moment then reached out and lifted the gun into his hands.

"It's not heavy at all," he said with a strange awe. Kris reached out and took the gun. With a mischievous grin, she removed the magazine and it fell to the seat—empty.

Letting out a slight laugh, she shook her head and said, "I could never shoot anybody. But it still scares them."

After about ten to fifteen minutes, they pulled into a driveway and climbed out of the car. Kris ran to the front door of the house and pushed on the doorknob. "_Scheiße_, I forgot!" she yelled out, smacking her forehead. "I don't have a key. I left it on my dresser, because I didn't think I'd need it."

"That was stupid," Kurt muttered with a laugh.

Laughing, Kris lightly pushed his shoulder and said, "Shut up, Kurt." Biting her lip, she took his hand and said, "Okay, take me in."

Shaking his head, Kurt said, "Why should I? After all, I came here all the way from New York just to save your bum." She gave him a hard stare and he smiled and put his hand on David's shoulder. In an instant they had disappeared and reappeared inside the house.

Looking around, Kris gestured toward a couch and said, "Make yourselves at home. I know I have." Turning to David, she said, "This is Jet's house." He nodded. Following Kurt, David sat on the couch, hesitant and shy. He could not take his eyes off of Kurt's forked tail that was swaying placidly on the cushions next to him.

Just as Kris was heading into the kitchen, the telephone rang. Pausing, she stared at it perplexed, bit her lip and quickly picked it up. "Hello?" she inquired quietly.

"Kristina," a stern voice said over the line that made Kris cringe guiltily. "What did you think you were doing?"

Gulping, Kris inquired softly, "Professor?"

"Yes," he answered severely. "Did you think I was not going to find out? Or do you still think you're just invincible?"

"It's 'invisible', Charles," she muttered sarcastically.

"You still have an attitude," he replied, not laughing. "I thought that perhaps the German Gymnasium would straighten you up." _Give me a break,_ Kris thought, rolling her eyes. "I'm too upset to speak to you right now. Let me talk to Kurt."

"Fine," she lashed. And with that carried the phone into the living room, shoved the phone into Kurt's three fingered hands and left the room. "I don't want to talk to you anyway," she muttered childishly as she went to her room and slammed the door behind her.

Hanging up her costume, she changed into a pair of silk green pajama pants and one of Jet's T-shirts she had snatched out of his drawers. After some time passed while she was brushing her hair, Kurt teleported into the room, his arms crossed over his chest sternly. Looking over at him through the mirror, she asked, "_Was ist los mit dir_? What's wrong with you?"

"Because of you, the Professor is making me come back to New York_. Ich muss jetzt gehen_. I have to leave now."

"_Was_? What?" Kris shouted in surprise. "_Du_ _kannst_ _nicht gehen! Du hast mich gesagt, dass du mit mir bleiben wirst. Ich kann nicht allein sein_. You can't go! You told me that you would stay with me. I can't be alone."

"_Stimmt. Das ist mir Egal_. I know, but it doesn't matter," he answered. "_Ich gehe jetzt mit unserem Auto_. I'm leaving with our car now." With that he made to leave the room, but she ran to him and grabbed his shoulder.

"No, there's another reason why you're leaving," she observed suspiciously. "_Was geht_? What's going on?" she inquired. When he did not answer right away, she screamed, "_Heraus damit_! Out with it!" This statement caused Kurt to glare at her.

"_Es gibt keine Grunde mehr_, There are no other reasons," he stated, his teeth clenched. "_Ich mache, was der Professor sagt. Ich bin sein Schüler. _I do what the Professor tells me to do. I'm his student."

"_Und ich bin dein Schüler_, And I'm your student," Kris countered, upset. "_Ich gehe, wo du gehst, Kurt_. I go where you go. You're only doing this so that you won't piss Xavier off."

"If you really are my student, Kris, then you'll listen to me," he said softly but firmly. "Stop this madness while you are ahead. Seeking revenge for Tina is not going to bring her or Matthew back to life." Staring hard at him, she shook her head in denial and turned away. "As your mentor I have an obligation to stay at your side, but I cannot deny Xavier. _Du musst das verstehen_. You must understand that."

Turning to him and grasping his hand tightly, she pleaded, "_Bleib, bitte…_ Please stay… Xavier wouldn't want you to leave me behind like this, you know that."

He stared hard into her, his dazzling yellow eyes searching for something just beyond reach. Blinking his long black lashes, he smiled and said, "_Ich weiß das. So, du kannst mit mir nach New York fahren_. I know that. So, you can go with me to New York." Frowning, Kris rolled her eyes and walked to the bed, her back to him.

"_Nein, ich will nicht gehen_, No, I won't go," she replied, crossing her arms indignantly over her chest. "_Ich gehe da wieder nicht. Du weißt das_. I'm not going back there. You know that."

"Pack tonight," he stated sharply. "_Du kommst mit uns nach New York_. You're going with us."

Turning, she pierced his thoughts, causing Kurt to waver in pain. She shouted, "You can't tell me what to do."

With a stern glance, he countered angrily, "_Doch! Ich kann._ Yeah, I can! You are my responsibility!"

"_Du bist nicht mein Vater_! You are not my father!" she cried out, falling immediately silent after the words escaped her lips. A stab of pain showing in his eyes, Kurt looked away, slowly nodding his head. His tail had dropped to the floor, and she could see that he was fighting back a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Oh, God…." Kris whispered. "Kurt, I didn't mean that."

"_Weißt du, Kris_? You know something, Kris?" he muttered, his voice and accent very low. She took a step forward, remorse upon her face. Holding up a hand, he halted her steps and said, "_Du bist richtig. Ich bin nicht… Ich bin nicht…_You're right. I'm not…I'm not…" With that, he sighed and turned, walking from the room, closing the door gently behind him.


	3. Change in Sounds

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt Wagner, Robert Drake, Jean Grey, Erik Lehnsherr, Tom Cassidy, Peter Rasputin, Sean Cassidy, and Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet Black, Kristina James, Tamiko Kaneshige, Caleb Tucker, Deanna Barnes, Matthew James, Tina Andrews Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited.

_X-Men: The Hunt for Black Tom_

_,Ich hab 'nen grünen Pass mit 'nem goldenen Adler drauf, doch bin ich Fremd hier!" Advanced Chemistry,Fremd in eigenen Land"_

_---------------------_

Chapter III: Change in Sounds 

The hours were growing very late when Jet came quietly into the house. Dropping his keys into a tray on a table in the foyer, he headed briskly into the kitchen. There, Kris sat quite uncomfortably at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of orange juice. Jet halted in his steps and glared over at her, his violet eyes flashing. "_Gute Nacht_, Hello," Kris greeted softly, a grin slipping over her lips.

He simply stared at her, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. "I suppose you're going to explain yourself," he stated sternly. Anger was boiling just beneath the surface of his skin, and Kris knew this well.

"Why should I have to," she muttered, taking a sip of her juice nonchalantly. Striding to her, Jet made to hit her, but stopped when he saw a flash of terror in her blue eyes. Letting his hand fall to his side, he looked down at her and sighed in exasperation.

Rubbing his forehead, he said, "I have been up at the prison for three hours—answering all sorts of questions. You are damned lucky that you didn't tell me anything about this. The whole thing was bloody irrational!" Pacing, he gestured toward her and continued, "And you—you think you can rise above the law all you want to—but you just can't, Phantom! You can't!"

"_Doch_! Yes I can!" She sassed in return.

"Keep your bloody trap shut!" he commanded, pointing at her in his rage. "When you try to do things like that, you get others in a whole shit of trouble!"

"What was I supposed to do? Do it your way?" she inquired loudly. "If I'd done that, David would have died and then you would have retreated back into your guilt for God knows how long."

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he gestured toward the living room and shouted, "They will never stop hounding me! That court already suspects me for a mutant-lover, and they probably think I've aided in the rescue of all of my clients." Letting out an exasperating breath of air, he added, "And this is going to be the last straw for them…"

"Tell me something, Sidewinder," Kris asked of him quietly. "Does David… does he _know_ that you are a mutant?"

"What!" Jet spat looking at her insanely. She simply raised an eyebrow to him and cocked her head smartly. Sighing, he let out, "Of course."

"Has he seen them?" she questioned further. She could picture them as she stared at his perplexed and worried face—his fangs. They protruded from the top of his mouth, just behind his canine teeth. They were probably folded back against the roof of his mouth at that very moment. Those very fangs were the reason behind the hiss in his speech—it was not a lisp as many had thought.

"Yes, he has," he whispered offhandedly. "What does it matter anyway?"

"I was just curious." She looked down at the floor as she thought.

"Did you hear anything that I said?" Jet asked harshly. There was a moment in which Kris did not respond, and he shouted in frustration, "They're going to find you sooner or later, Phantom! You have to stop now!"

"_Nein_!" Kris yelled in return, rising to her feet. "I will not stop! My life—it works for me. This is how I want it to be. I'm happy with who I am!" Walking to the back hallway that headed to the bedrooms, she turned and said, "You can run all you want from the person you really are, Jet Black. But I know you better than that. This whole lawyer thing—the whole "I abide by the law regardless the ends"—it's bullshit!"

"Get out of here!" Jet shouted in return. "I want you out of my house by tomorrow, do you hear me?"

"Fine!" she yelled back as she turned and headed toward her room. "I don't want to see you ever again," she added childishly and slammed her door shut.

* * *

Approaching her bedroom door, he knocked ever so softly. He could hear her just inside, the soft sobs into her pillow. "_Wer ist es_?" she called from inside. He froze, unsure of what to say. "Who is it?" she repeated.

Clearing his throat, he let out softly, "David—it's David. May I come in." A long moment passed, he heard her shuffling around and then the door opened slowly.

"Yes," she answered quietly, her hand rubbing her throat in troubled annoyance. With that, she turned and walked to the bed.

He watched her as he stepped into the room and softly pushed the door closed. She was massaging her throat and constantly clearing it in small coughs. "Are you alright?" he inquired gently.

Looking to him, she smiled and let out, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just—well, I haven't spoken this much English in a long time. My vocal chords aren't used to this sudden change in sounds. It makes my throat hurt."

"I'm sorry," he whispered in an attempt to comfort her.

"I'll be fine, I think," she replied. "Thank you, though, for your concern."

Smiling, he nodded and said, "That is what I came in here to do. I wanted to thank you, for saving my life. Very few people would have attempted what you accomplished."

Letting out a gentle laugh, Kris smiled and brushed her blonde hair behind her ears. "You're welcome. It was no problem…really."

"I could not help but hear you crying," David continued hesitantly.

"_Scheiße_! You could hear that?" Kris let out in embarrassment. "I thought the walls were thicker than that." They both laughed slightly, and Kris kicked at a shoe on the floor in restlessness.

"What is wrong?"

She blinked and stared at him for a long moment. Her mind opening, she looked into his thoughts and saw a shadowy picture of truth. Searching just barely so as not to let him know that she was reading his thoughts, she saw only honesty. He truly wanted to know what was bothering her. He seemed too kind. "Ah… It's Jet—and Kurt. They're making me go to New York with y'all tomorrow, and I really don't want to go back there. And Jet—well—he's not talking to me altogether. In fact, we just expressed that we don't want to see each other anymore."

There was a moment in which David simply stared away in thought, his deep blue eyes dancing in the dim light from the lamp. "Can I make a suggestion?" he asked. Kris slowly nodded, ready to hear what he had to say. "I would tell you to perhaps humble yourself and make amends with Jet. A friend like Sidewinder comes around seldom in a lifetime. I know for a fact that you would not want to lose him. And as for Kurt… I would go with him—to New York. It may be hard for you, but it may also do you something wonderful. You have very little to lose."

They stared at each other for what felt like hours before David added, "Of course, I don't know much. I'm not great at giving advice. I just say what seems right to me. I'm sorry if I've upset you."

"No, no," Kris interrupted. "No, I think you may be right. I've been a real jerk."

"Well, Miss James, I would say good night," he said softly.

"Call me Kris… And good night, David. Thank you," Kris said with a loving smile. "I'll see you in the morning?" Her statement became a question in her hesitation, and as David was heading out the bedroom door, he turned and smiled.

"Of course."

* * *

Jet sat on the sofa in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a white muscle shirt. His eyes were focused on the television, but he was unaware of what he was watching. His thoughts were elsewhere this late at night. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he realized that it was actually early in the morning, the large hand nearing two.

Coming up behind him, Kris climbed over the top of the couch and sank down onto her knees, adjusting herself comfortably on the plush cushions. Playing with her hair nervously, she sighed and whispered, "Jet, I know that you're angry with me, but I wasn't just going to let him die." Setting his jaw, Jet continued to stare at the television, his demeanor indignant. "Would you at least talk to me?" she asked quietly, her lip trembling. He glanced at her quickly through the sides of his eyes and then set back his stare. Laying her head into her hands, she held her breath, holding back an onslaught of tears. " I need you right now, Jet!" she let out. Letting her hands fall to her lap. "Kurt's angry with me, I'm thousands of miles from home, and now you're not talking to me," she cried, letting her tears come. "I'm sorry… There was nothing else I could do."

Turning to her, he watched her stiffly for a minute, and as her tears ran down her face, his gaze softened. Putting a hand to her cheek, he smiled and whispered, "It's alright." She looked at him a moment, as though she were astonished. "Somewhere, deep inside of me, I was hoping you wouldn't listen to me," he began, sighing deeply. "I'm glad you saved him." The room went silent except for the drone of the late evening news. They stared at each other for the longest time, her eyes glistening greenish in her tears.

"**This evening, what is believed to be a startling act of terrorism disrupted our justice system."** Immediately, Kris and Jet's attention switched to the television. "**Twenty-seven year old, David Forslund was marked to be executed this evening by means of lethal injection. David was tried and convicted for the first-degree murder of Private First Class Richard Weylen over eleven years ago. But his death was brought to a screeching halt when an unknown assailant broke into the facility and liberated him."** At this point, a picture of Kris in her black costume, hung in mid-leap, came upon the screen. **"The young woman, believed to be the German terrorist known only as 'The Phantom,' is in…" **

Jet turned off the TV with a click of the remote. Kris stared at him a moment, and then he explained, "We already know what happened." When he smiled slightly, she let out a soft giggle, twisting her fingers nervously in her lap. Another awkward silence past, then he said, "It must be exciting, getting national coverage like this."

"Oh," she muttered bashfully, "this is nothing. I've gotten international coverage all over Europe several times for things I've done." He laughed slightly, not realizing that he had his hand on the back of her neck, gently stroking her hair. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her head softly against his arm, unaware of what she was really doing. Looking up into his violet eyes, she whispered, "Jet--"

"Shh… don't talk," he interrupted her with a hand to her lips. And leaning in, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her intimately. Instinctively, she returned it and put her hands on the sides of his face in a sweet caress.

In their passion, her mind was suddenly opened in a wave of emotion, and she could hear his every thought, see what he was feeling. Pictures of Tina rolled into her mind: her smiling face, her hungry eyes. But the images soon changed into something Kris never wanted to imagine. Tina lying face down upon the bed, her blood spilling onto the blue sheets. Her hands grasped the pillows, her hold unloosened. At that moment, Kris felt a surge of pain, of anger that filled more than just her consciousness. It flowed into her every pore, suffocating her in an ocean of torment. Overwhelmed, she pulled away, breathing hard. She could feel him staring at her, his confusion swirling around in her consciousness. Turning away, she closed her eyes as he tried to lean in, and she held up a hand and whispered, "Stop. Just stop."

"What? Why?" he asked, his tone confused and anxious.

Looking up into his eyes, she shook her head and whispered, "I can't. I mean, I don't want you to do something that you'll regret." Standing, she climbed over the top of the couch and let out, "I just can't." And with that she left the room at a run. He stared after her in anxiety, his thoughts roving, unsure of what had just happened. Absentmindedly, he put his hand to his head and scratched his hair, yearning for her to return.

* * *

The darkness of the room was broken by the glare of the television screen. The bright contrasts of light shined off of Tom's tanned face, accenting the dark color of his eyes. His thin lips were curved slightly downward as he watched the sequence of events unfold on that evening's news. **"Fortunately, only one person was injured, and he is now being treated at Northwestern Memorial Hospital for a mild concussion."** Hearing this, he let out a laugh and shook his head, his brown hair falling into his eyes.

"What's so funny?" a woman asked from behind him as she came into the room, carrying with her a glass of bubbly champagne. He glanced at her as she sat down on the couch beside him, absentmindedly stroking his hair. She looked to the television and made a gesture. "This?" she inquired curiously as the recording of a young woman in black costume began to play again. The mystery woman fought swiftly and deftly, as she seemed to disappear in one position and then reappear in another as if by magic.

He nodded, his eyes shimmering in the light of the television. **"This woman, believed to be the German terrorist known only as 'The Phantom,' is in her mid-twenties. She has chin-length, dishwater blonde hair, and according to eyewitness accounts, she has blue eyes and faded freckles. Standing between five feet, six inches and five feet, eight inches tall, The Phantom is believed to be armed and dangerous. If you have any information, please call this hot-line immediately." **He took a gulp of her champagne and let out a chuckle. With a click of the remote, the screen went black.

"That could be anybody," she let out, putting her glass on the coffee table in front of the two of them. "There are too many people I know that could fall under that description."

Nodding, he looked to her and said, "Exactly. And she knows that." His eyes flashed menacingly, as the words slipped over his tongue. His voice was soft and rhythmic, his Irish accent thick and charming. "Notice, Deanna, that she wears the mask to cover her nose and the area around her eyes. And then the dark clothing, the trench coat, gloves, boots, and cape, they hide every aspect of her body that makes her unique. The police can't draw a composite sketch of her wearing a mask, because they all know that she won't go walking around in broad daylight with it on. She has them stumped, eating out of the palm of her gloved hand. Without that costume, she is like every other one of the blonde haired, blue eyed girls in this country."

Deanna stared into him, her golden eyes shining lustfully in the moonlight that streamed in through the windows. "You seemed to have thought this through as much as she," she muttered, her dark red hair flowing smoothly over her shoulders. He smiled, his perfect teeth gleaming handsomely.

Shaking his head, he whispered, "She's no Phantom." And with that, he leaned in and kissed Deanna passionately, a surge of heated energy escaping from his fingertips, exploding in a small burst just above them, only exciting him more. "Don't open your eyes," he let out, and she kept them shut tight as he kissed her again, guiding her down into the cushions. Lying down next to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. "We should find her," he whispered quite abruptly, causing Deanna to stop and stare at the ceiling.

"What?" she asked suspiciously, as his eyes shot open next to her.

"We should find her," he repeated plainly, his voice catching in his throat. "Let's see who she really is, and what she knows."

Sitting up in exasperation, she said, "But Tom, you promised me that you would take a break for a little while after your last excursion. We don't need to go on some man hunt halfway across the country." She looked at him and he winced as though in pain. Quickly she turned away and continued, "I want to stay here for awhile."

"It's not halfway across the country," he stated. "Apparently she's in or around Chicago, and I've got connections there, Dee." He paused and stared at her back before he continued, "It will only take a week or two. Then we come back here and start where we left off."

Turning, she glared at him, and this time he gasped and doubled over, gritting his teeth in agony. "Stop it, Deanna!" he commanded, his voice hoarse as his insides burned. But she only glared harder, her arms crossed over her chest in indignation. Screaming, he shouted, "I said stop it!" And with that, he thrust his hands upward and a low intensity heat burst caught her in the stomach, causing her to fall back and onto the floor, her shirt singeing in the extreme temperature. She kicked her feet childishly and let out a yell. Putting a hand out, he pushed her shoulder firmly into the coffee table and screamed, "I'm going to do this whether you like it or not, Dee!" She made to glance at him, but he slapped her hard across the face. "I will have no more of that! If you want my love, then you are going to do what I tell you to do! Do you understand me?" She made no reply, but only looked hard into the floorboards as though ignoring him. Slapping her again, he screamed, "I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!"

"Yes," she whispered meekly, her thin fingers making their way to his wrist, stroking the top of his hand gently. His own fingers played on hers in return as they sat for a moment in the silent darkness.

Running a hand in a caress along her cheek, he smiled and whispered, "It's getting late. Let's go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow." Leaning forward, her kissed her forehead, smiled again and made his way down the hall toward the bedroom. Deanna sat there for a minute, touching her reddened face softly as tears spilled from her eyes. Doubling over, she heaved and coughed hard, a snake spilling from her mouth and onto the wooden floor. She heaved again, but nothing came of it. She stood slowly, her very thin frame trying to balance in her pain. Then, she bent down, picked up the snake as it tried to slither away, and threw it out an open window into the yard. Wiping her eyes, she sighed and made her way to bed.


	4. Unforgotten Memories

_Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Robert "Iceman" Drake, Jean Grey, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr, "Black" Tom Cassidy, Peter "Colossus" Rasputin, Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock, a.k.a. "Psylocke", and Mastermind) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet "Sidewinder" Black, Kristina "Phantom (X)" James, Tamiko "Sonic" Kaneshige, Caleb "Hephaestus" Tucker, Deanna "Medusa" Barnes, Matthew "Falcon" James, Tina Andrews "Gypsum" Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited._

_X-Men: "The Hunt for Black Tom"_

"_I am a lighthouse, worn by the weather and the waves. I keep my lamp lit to warn the sailors on their way. I'll tell the story, paint you a picture from my past. I was so happy, but joy in this life seldom lasts." Nickel Creek, "A Lighthouse's Tale"_

_

* * *

_Chapter IV: Unforgotten Memories

Throwing punch after punch into the bag that hung from the ceiling on a single chain, Kris grimaced in confusion. The sweat trickled down her brow, and she wiped it away with her arm. Tapping her gloves together inches from her face, she let out a quick jab at the bag with her left arm. Her freckled shoulders glistened as the sweat stuck to her skin. Screaming, she jumped back and swung out her leg. Her shoe collided with the bag, and it swung carelessly to and fro. Heaving for breath, she came to a stand still and removed one glove with the underside of her opposite arm. Massaging her knuckles, she frowned and wiped her forehead.

"Not bad," someone said loudly, his voice echoing from inside the gymnasium. Dropping her gloves to the floor, she turned abruptly, her blue eyes squinted, and she searched for the carrier of the voice. Her thoughts roamed, but she could not keep track of the stranger for long, he dodged in and out of her telepathic grip. A shadow flew by to her right and she immediately whipped around to face the intruder. "Not bad at all," his voice repeated with a laugh. His accent was thin and smooth, catching on the roof of his mouth with a hiss.

"Who's there?" Kris shouted, her voice carrying in an echo. Another shadow sped by in her peripheral vision, and she jumped, her arms up by her face in defense. "Show yourself!" She screamed, tension straining inside her throat.

There was a sharp laugh, and Kris's brow furrowed in confusion and fear. She could not properly sense whoever was there. "Are you afraid?" the voice asked. "There is no need to be afraid of me." And suddenly there was a breath upon her neck. The hairs on her arms rose in terror, and her eyes grew wide. Ever so slowly, she moved to turn and then jabbed her elbow as hard as she could into the man's stomach. He stumbled backward, gasping, and she jumped away and stared at him. She was ready to defend herself with her arms and legs set. He looked up at her, his wavy black hair falling into his violet eyes. Her mouth fell open in horror as she laid eyes upon his. His pupils were strangely thin and snake-like.

The stranger only smiled snidely as she gaped at him in horror. In an instant, his body moved with snake-like agility and speed, and he was behind her again, his arms around her waist, holding her tight. Screaming in terror, Kris's arms and legs flailed, hoping to collide with any member of his body. But he was inhumanly agile and dodged her every move with ease. Gripping her tightly, he laid his head on the crook of her neck and took in a deep breath of her skin. "Oh," he let out in ecstasy. "Your skin is so warm." Tears glistening in her eyes, she vainly fought to be released. He was running his face along her short blonde, taking her scent in with deep breaths.

"Please, let me go," she whispered in shock and horror. He only chuckled inside his throat, and his breath escaped his mouth in a thin hiss. She could smell the scent of cigarettes on his breath as he pressed the side of his face near her ear.

He held her tighter and brought his mouth close to her ear and hissed, "And you're beautiful. He didn't tell me that."

"Who? Who told you what?" Kris shouted so that he grimaced against the volume of the voice in his ear. "Let go of me, you bastard!" she screamed, suddenly her anger growing. Concentrating as hard as she could on his thoughts, she pierced through his mind like a knife. His grip loosened only just as he winced from the pain. And closing her eyes, Kris let out a shrill scream inside of his mind, and he swooned, stumbling back in agony at the ringing inside his head. Turning on him in his moment of weakness, she let her leg sail through the air, and her foot came down hard against his shoulder. He screamed, caught at unawares, and she slammed her fist against his jaw.

Then, when he was on his knees in pain, she turned and bolted for the doors across the gym floor. Hauling her legs as fast and hard as she could, she shouted, "_Professor, get me the hell outta here!_" Xavier caught her message, she could feel it. But before she reached the doors, something caught her ankles and she tumbled forward, her head slamming against the wooden floor. The stranger was upon her, his hands pressing her shoulders to the ground. Kris screamed as he forcefully turned her over so that she faced him. His mouth was wide as he leaned toward her face, and she saw protruding from its roof, two two-inch long fangs. Groaning in terror, she slammed the ball of her left hand against his nose, forcing his face away. But he simply moved around her and sank his teeth into the skin along her wrist. The fangs pierced through her skin, and she screamed in agony as they broke through the veins and she felt them secrete their venom into her arm.

Withdrawing his fangs from within her wrist, the stranger licked her blood that had splattered onto his lips, and whispered, "I'll be back soon." And with that, he watched her arm fall heavy to the floor, and his form flicked away with the speed of a snake and he had disappeared. Tears of agony spilling from her eyes, she had no strength to move as the venom rushed through her system. Her eyes grew heavy as the pain burned throughout her entire body seizing in painful tremors, and darkness crept in.

* * *

Jolting from sleep, Kris gasped for breath, hot sweat upon her face. Staring around the darkness, she let her breath ease when she realized that it had all been a dream. Grimacing, she felt the tears forming behind her eyes as she looked down at her wrist. There she could make out the scars in the darkness, light pink and easy to spot from a distance. The two spots where Jet's fangs had pierced her skin were aching as she thought about them. "It was ten years ago, Kris," she whispered to herself amid the darkness. "It's over now." She fought to comfort herself, but the dream had been so vivid, as though she had lived through it another time.

Leaning back against the pillows, she closed her eyes and fought to rid the memory from her mind. In minutes she had fallen back into sleep.

As the hours past, she struggled to sleep as the warmth of the winter night trapped inside the covers, and she tossed and turned to adjust. The more she seemed to fight against the heat, it felt as though the temperature continued to rise. Fighting with the sweat droplets that rolled into her eyes, she blinked rapidly to rid the stinging from her sight. As her eyelashes fluttered, she made shapes out of the darkness about her and nearly screamed to see the silhouette of a man standing near the foot of her bed. Jolting to a sitting position, she let out a gasp as her thoughts rushed into his and her heart throbbed inside her throat.

"Good evening, Phantom," he whispered melodically, his Irish accent flowing softly over his tongue. The heat about her grew, and she fought to jump to her feet, but a thought in the back of her mind compelled her to remain frozen. A high pitched ringing echoed inside her ears, and her temples throbbed.

Staring into the image of the dark man, she saw his appearance flicker, wavy like a mirage. Blinking, she shook her head and the image molded into something of a different man. "No," she whispered under her breath, pushing back the images of heat and the man from her mind. "Get out of my head!" she screamed, unable to move. The only thing she seemed able to do was to stare into the bright green eyes of a man that she only knew by reputation. "Mastermind," she muttered, finally seeing the illusionist for who he really was.

Laughing snidely, the man ran a nervous and jittery hand through his wavy brown hair and said, "You're a terribly difficult mind to break, Phantom." Snickering, he moved toward her only a few steps. "Ironic, isn't it," he began quietly, "that the device you have hated so long actually aids in your favor?"

Her mind flashed, and she was suddenly lying in a bed, the room brightened by numerous candles. There she lay, staring at the barrenness of the cave walls, tears in her young blue eyes. Dried chips of blood flaked the skin around her temples. Her head pounded in eternal pain as she struggled to merely sit up. But the pain simply grew to an excruciating torment and she flopped helplessly back to her pillow.

"Careful, child," a calm and soothing voice said. "I do not want you to hurt yourself." Blinking the tears from her eyes, she turned to look fearfully into the soft grey-blue eyes of her most despised enemy. He walked to her and gently stroked her cheek, much like a father would comfort his own daughter.

"Why are you doing this, Magneto?" she asked in a wheezing whisper, her voice barely strong enough to reach above the sound of the constant dripping from the cave walls.

Magneto simply smiled, almost concerned, as he answered softly, "I would never want anyone to hurt you, Kris. It simply protects you from everyone else."

Blinking, tears spilled down her cheeks and suddenly she was back inside the bedroom, staring into Mastermind's formless shadow. "Those implants," Mastermind continued in a mock tease, "those tiny little fragments of metal that Lehnsherr surgically placed into your temples were meant to prevent Xavier from ever finding you." He laughed as Kris simply stared at him in anger and long held in rage. "It's certainly ingenious technology. By using a scale-downed version of his very helmet that prevents anyone from piercing his thoughts, he was able to permanently remove you from the mutant network. No matter how powerful the telepath, or empath for that matter, no one will ever find you or sense your thoughts."

Her heart pounding, she shouted, "What do you want? I know that you are not really here! I cannot fully feel you there! Although these damned implants prevent you from finding me, I have no trouble sensing you. What do you want? And how can I even see you now?"

Laughing, Mastermind began to draw away into the shadows as he replied, "So many questions… One would never believe that you might be _compelled_ to find me." And in the next instance, he had disappeared. Searching for him with her thoughts she found nothing. All she could sense were the people in the rooms down the hallway. David slept lightly, unable to keep asleep for too long. His thoughts were confused and unsettled. Jet was dead asleep, his anger exhausting him. Kurt slept normally, waking only at times when he dreamt of teleporting in which his body actually moved to another location in the room. She wanted to giggle, but her thoughts were far too troubled to make any sense at the moment.

Her thoughts were scattered, leaping to and fro, from Mastermind to her friends. Her thoughts suddenly came to rest on one face. That face of Erik Lehnsherr. Grimacing, she saw his gently smiling face and his kind, warm eyes. "No," she whispered aloud. "You are not my father…"

The image of Lehnsherr only shook his head, and the anger inside of her grew. Climbing out of bed, she paced out of the room and to the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice, distracting her mind from the painful memories and thoughts.

* * *

"Jet," Kris said as she sat across from him at the dining room table as he ate his breakfast and read the newspaper. "I need to talk to you."

"Okay, go ahead," he said lackadaisically, his eyes glued to the paper. "You made the front page, Phantom," he added gesturing to the rest of the paper that lay upon the tabletop.

"I don't care about that, Jet," Kris let out in aggravation. Jet's violet eyes flicked to her as the sharpness in her voice stung at him. She stared into him, obvious discomfort and anxiety behind her eyes.

Concerned, Jet leaned forward and placed his hand atop hers and said, "Kris, what's wrong?" She stared back at him, unsure as to whether or not continue with her train of thought.

"Um… Do you remember when you worked for Magneto?" she whispered hesitantly. Looking back at her suspiciously, he slowly nodded. "I need to ask you something about that."

Nodding, Jet hesitantly said, "Okay. What is it?" He himself did not like this topic of conversation, but in an effort to put his friend's mind at ease, he continued.

"Well, I just need to know—"

"Okay, let's go!" Kurt proclaimed, striding into the kitchen. "The car is packed and ready to go. We need to leave in order to make it to New York by tomorrow morning." Walking to Kris, he patted her shoulder and said with a smile, "Come on, Kris. Let's go."

"OK, _Vati_!" Kris replied sharply, only to smile when Kurt looked lovingly into her eyes. And with that, she stood, grabbed her pillow and jacket and headed out to the car. David was already seated in the back seat, a sketch pad on his knees, completely enthralled with his drawing. Jet climbed in next to David, and settled back comfortably.

Yawning, Kris leaned back in the front seat and stared at Jet through the mirror on the overhead visor. Kurt was the last to enter the car, but when he did, he revved the engine and they started on their long drive to Westchester.

* * *

A heave of the car as they went over a bump in the road shook Kris from a troubled sleep. Rubbing her eyes in the sunlight, she sat up from her pillow against the window and stared forward. The large mansion stood tall and welcoming in the late afternoon sunshine, and quickly turning round, she watched as the gate to the grounds closed behind them, and her eyes spotted the plaque upon its stone columns: _Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters._ "Since when did they install speed-bumps?" Kris muttered sarcastically. "They woke me up."

Kurt looked over at her and smiled. "Well, at least you were sleeping," he commented, always looking at the brighter side of things. Sighing, Kris sank down into her chair, her arms crossed over her chest.

As they continued along the driveway up to the garages, a constant frown was painted upon her face. "I can assure you," Jet was saying from the back seat, "that you won't have that frown for long."

"Just watch me," Kris spat childishly, furrowing her brow and leaning against the door. With a shake of his head, Jet let out a snicker and gazed out the window. When they finally reached the garages, Kurt parked the car next to a smooth, streamlined, red convertible. "Whose is that?" she asked curiously, gesturing at the vehicle.

"That would be Bobby's car," Jet answered. "It's his pride and joy. He bought the parts from a strip-yard and restored the whole thing himself."

Nodding, Kris yawned and stated, "It's ugly... too clean." At this Kurt laughed and shook his head. Placing her hand on the latch, she pushed and exited the car, the freezing winds biting against her skin. Tightening her denim jacket around her, she gritted her teeth and turned to David and said, "This is where the three of us went to school."

He nodded and smiled, "It's nice."

"Sure it is," she responded sarcastically. "That's what you're supposed to think." Biting her lip, she went to Kurt and they made their ways to the door. Walking inside was like taking a trip back in time. The hardwood floors made her boots click loudly against the corresponding wooden walls. She took in a breath to be greeted by that crisp, clean smell that she had used to love about this place. "It hasn't changed," she whispered, her awe showing in spite of her current attitude.

"_Ich weiß_, I know," Kurt muttered with a nod of his head. "Hopefully it will always remain this way." Jet stood behind them, his lips pulled into a smile. "Come," Kurt said, putting his hand on her back and leading her forward.

As they proceeded down the hallway, they remained silent until they heard jogging footsteps from ahead of them. Coming out from an adjoining corridor, a young man with light brown hair ran to them. His eyes were an icy blue, his face pulled into a broad smile. "Welcome back," he greeted, shaking Kurt's hand and embracing Jet. Turning, he stared at Kris for a moment and grinned. "Is that really you, Phantom X?" he inquired in excitement.

"You betchya," she replied. Her sour attitude dissolving, she grinned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Oh my gosh, Bobby!" she exclaimed, both of them laughing. "Wow, it's so awesome to see you. You look great."

"Thanks, you're not bad yourself," he responded, taking her hand and leading her forward. "You have to come see everyone!" he cried, dragging her off down a hallway.

"Okay," she answered, running along with him. "I'll catch up with you later, Kurt!" she called as they ran down the corridor that led to the student hall. Pushing open the doors, Bobby led her inside the large hall. There students were either playing random games of table tennis of phooz-ball, sitting at tables pouring over textbooks or just enjoying a bite to eat. Gazing around, memories of this place flooded her being, and she let out a laugh.

"You probably realize that the majority of us are now instructors or just resident X-Men," Bobby was saying to her. "Oh," he said, spotting someone in the middle of the room, "come here." He led her to a table where about five young men and women sat eating sandwiches and cookies. "You guys," Bobby started, getting their attention, "you'll never guess who's back." They all looked to Kris, some of them furrowing their brows, trying to place the face, and still others' mouths immediately dropped open in surprise.

One woman stood up, her bright blonde hair streaked with silver, and exclaimed, "Krissy!" When she was returned with a bashful nod, the woman jumped forward and pulled her into a huge embrace.

"How are you, Sable?" Kris said, returning the embrace with a smile and a pat on the back. Suddenly, everyone was upon her, either with hugs or handshakes, their excitement causing the room to buzz. As fast as she could recall their names, she spit them out, "Jason?... Peter?... Betsy?" They all greeted her enthusiastically and invited her to sit, but not before a voice spoke from behind her.

"Kristina Paige James," the woman said, sarcasm sliding over her tongue in amusement. Turning slowly around, Kris looked down into the brown eyes of a young Japanese-American woman, her dark olive skin shining in the florescent lighting. She ran a hand through her straight dark brown hair and grinned. As their eyes met, memories of her teenage years flooded her mind and Kris's hand flew to her mouth in shock. Tears burned behind her eyes as the young woman grinned back at her, tears in her own eyes.

"Tamiko!" Kris cried, throwing her arms around her and lifting her into the air. Tears hung on the edges of her eyes as she held the best friend she had ever known tight in her embrace. "Tami!" she exclaimed again, as though remembering what it felt like to speak her name. "You are enough to make me want to come back," she stated, releasing her friend. Putting a hand on each of her shoulders, Kris played with the tips of her red-streaked brown hair and asked, "What's up, Shorty! Still a pip-squeak?"

Laughing Tamiko answered, "Unfortunately, yes. I haven't grown an inch since eighth grade. But mind you, I don't take lightly to teasing about my height anymore."

"You never did," Kris replied with a laugh, pulling her back in with an excited hug. "But you know I'm just kidding as always," she added with the tears spilling down her cheeks. "4'11 isn't that bad." They giggled and sat down with everyone.

"So, tell us, Phantom," Betsy started, her long violet hair spilling in waves over her shoulders as she leaned upon the tabletop, her eyes wide and surprised, "what's Germany like?"

There was a moment, in which Kris nodded her head and then let out with a laugh, "_Es ist gut_." The group chuckled and they all were leaning forward excitedly, as though they were no longer grown men and women, but gossiping teenagers on their lunch break. In answering their questions and listening as the others filled in the gaps in time, Kris felt herself submerged in the past, memories and joys reawakening to greet her with warm embraces.

At the far side of the cafeteria, Jet and the others of her party were standing in the doorway, staring over at the group of former school mates, smug grins upon their faces. Kurt, his tail brushing the floor back and forth in content, said to Jet, "It does me well to see her smile like that. You can't imagine how long it's been since she really smiled."

His attention suddenly switching from the group to the man on his right, Jet inquired, "She's much like a daughter to you, isn't she, Nightcrawler?"

Looking over at him, somewhat startled, Kurt stared into Jet's face for a moment before smiling and replied, "_Ja_. Very much so."

"Does she return your feelings?" he questioned him, his eyes dancing in thought.

Kurt let out a small laugh, and nodded his head. "Around her school friend's in Germany, she would address me as _'Vati'_, which in English means Daddy. And there are times that I catch her calling me that even when no one is around," he pointed out, wagging a finger as though to help him remember.

"I guess that you serve as the most proper father figure that she's ever known, " Jet commented. "I mean, considering that, well, you know who is her biological dad."

At this Kurt shook his head, clicking his tongue in a mixture of disappointment and condescension. "We don't yet know that," he stated quietly. "The only proof we have is his word, and I am glad to say that we cannot always trust it."

"But surely Kris has accepted the possibility," Jet let out, gesturing toward the young woman who was now laughing at her fullest, leaning her head into Tamiko's shoulder for relief. "I mean, all of us have."

Stroking his chin, Kurt shook his head and smiled, "That's the peculiar thing about Kris. She doesn't like to accept anything without concrete proof. And just because everyone else believes, well, it gives her further reason to deny it."

His gaze darting between Kris and Kurt, Jet inquired, "Have you accepted the possibility, Nightcrawler?"

A moment passed while Kurt stared thoughtfully across the room, his bright yellow eyes twinkling behind long lashes. And finally: _"Ja, ich denke, dass ich das gedacht habe_. Yes, I think I have. But I can't be sure. As always, we must wait to receive the answers." Jet stared at him, perplexed and understanding, but Kurt gave no indication that he even knew he had suddenly switched from one language to the next. But Jet could understand most of what his comrade had said. Smiling, Kurt stared at Kris, love twinkling in his eyes. "She's so happy," he commented almost at a whisper. "She always was happy here…"

* * *

"Now, before you do anything else," Bobby said, standing from the table and running to Kris, "I have to show you something." There was a pause in their laughter, and Kris looked at him, perplexed.

"What?" She asked, glancing to the rest of their friends, wondering if they knew what Bobby was talking about. Tamiko giggled mischievously, looking up at Bobby almost too playfully.

Nodding to her, Bobby brought Kris to her feet and continued, "Just come with me." Turning to Tamiko, he added, "You can come too, Baby." Laughing, Tamiko jumped to her feet and followed along with them.

As they walked out of the cafeteria and into the main hallway, Kris turned to Tamiko and whispered, "Baby?"

Letting out a shy laugh, she nodded her head and muttered, "For three years now." At this Kris glanced back and forth between the couple.

"He's a bit tall for you, don't you think?" Kris let out loudly as Tamiko's hand hit her on the shoulder. "I'm just kidding, Tami! Just kidding!"

"Yeah, sure!" Tamiko replied, slapping her shoulder again in a playful laugh.

They were lead out to the back door and across the grounds to the stables near the horse pastures. "Bobby, where are we going?" Kris asked as she pursued his steps impatiently.

"You'll see," he called back, picking up his pace to a run. "Come on, hurry!" She jogged lightly behind him, her shoes kicking up the frozen snow. The wind stung at her nose, but she shook it away as they got closer to the stables. Approaching the stable doors, Bobby stopped and turned to look at her. "Nine years ago," Bobby began dramatically, causing the girls to burst into laughter, "you said goodbye to get on a plane to a distant country. But you asked me to do something for you before you left. 'One year or fifty,' you said, 'please, please take care of my baby.'" At this they burst into hysterical laughter.

"Bobby, you didn't," Kris let out in disbelief as he unlocked and began to open the wide doors. "You didn't!" She repeated as he ushered her inside, her hands to her mouth in shock. As she looked across the hay-covered floors, she saw on the far end of the stables, alone and beautiful, a rusty, pickup truck, the left headlight busted, and a dent on the front bumper. "Oh my!" She let out, screaming in utter excitement, jumping up and down in amazed disbelief. Throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek, exclaiming, "I can't believe you kept my truck!"

Laughing, he added, "And I kept her in perfect condition, just how you left her." Holding out the keys, he dropped them into her open palm and said, "And she's all yours once again."

Tears in her eyes, Kris embraced him again and ran to her truck in complete ecstasy. "I still don't understand," Tamiko inquired as her best friend ran her hands over the hood in joy. "What is so great about this truck?"

"Tami, I've explained this to you millions of times, I remember," Kris answered as she slipped the key into the door lock. "This is my 1978 Ford F-150 Pickup Truck, with its beautiful navy blue paint chipping on the roof, and all of its dents and imperfections! This is my baby!"

Shaking her head with a laugh, Tamiko shrugged as Bobby wrapped his arms around her waist. Kissing her hair, he said into her ear, "Don't ask, Tami. This is the Kris we all remember."

Nodding, Tamiko watched her friend climb inside and lay across the seats in pure amazement. "You're right, Bobby," she said in return. "Otherwise, she wouldn't be Kris."

* * *

It was late into the night when Kris finally began to make her way upstairs to her room that they had arranged for her to stay in. As she walked, she stared at the mahogany walls, as the flames in the fireplace cast dancing shadows along their smooth contours. No light shone apart from those of the flames as she continued to walk slowly down the hall and toward the stairway. As she approached the foot of the stairs, Kris stopped and stared into the sitting room, where David stood at the fireplace, leaning an arm against the long, wide mantle.

She watched him for a moment, watching as he ran a thoughtful hand through his wavy brown hair. The fingers of his opposite hand were gently tapping the wood of the mantle as his mind lingered in thought. She did not have to read his mind to see that he was troubled. "David," she called quietly to him from the archway. He startled at the sound of her voice, breaking the sounds of the silence and the flames. He looked over to her, his hair falling over his face and into his eyes. He quickly brushed it back behind his ears and looked at her curiously, his blue eyes sparkling in the light from the flames.

"Still awake, Kris?" he inquired passively, his voice barely rising above the crackling of the fire. Jamming her hands nervously into the pockets of her jeans, Kris nodded and grinned slightly.

Shrugging, she averted his gaze and let out in a mutter, "I don't sleep well anymore. And… I wanted to take a walk, you know, to get to know the place again. And I had to talk to the Professor, and he gave me the lecture I expected."

"What lecture is that?" David inquired with a laugh.

"Oh, the 'your gifts are not to be abused' speech and the 'anger and vengeance will get you nowhere' one too. But it was all right. He actually said he was glad to have me back inside his mansion." Kris answered with a laugh.

"So, you're no longer upset that you're here?" he asked so quietly, looking back into the fire. Kris shook her head and let out a laugh. At her response, he continued to gaze into the flames as he muttered, "Me neither. This place is wonderful."

Again, she watched him for a long moment, curiosity furrowing into her eyebrows as she looked into his eyes from that particular angle. "I can't help but feel like I've met you somewhere before," she let out, stepping into the room. He quickly looked back to her, his eyes responding to her stare with an intent, inquiring knowledge. He shared the same gaze with her, their questions floating unanswered between them.

Nodding slowly, he said, "I know what you mean." There was a long pause, he looked away and let out a sigh. "I can't sleep either…" Shaking his head, he looked down at his feet and whispered, "Especially last night. I kept seeing you in my head…and then I felt as though you were in as much pain as I. What's the matter, Kris?"

A small smile touching the shadows on her face, Kris stared at him in wonder. He certainly had an intuitive, almost empathic sense about him. Sighing, she shrugged and walked to the sofa and sat down upon its cushions shyly. Looking into the flickering flames, she answered, "I don't know. I just had a horrible dream last night. It's been years since I've had that dream." There was another moment of silence, and David looked over at her, and then he walked to and sat next to her on the sofa. Adjusting herself on the cushions, she continued, "It was more of a recurring memory…about when Jet…attacked me."

Startled, David grew instantly concerned and inquired, "He attacked you? When? Where?"

"Oh, no time recently. It was almost ten years ago when it happened, when Jet was working with Magneto and his Brotherhood." The words spilled out of her almost too casually. "He was told to kidnap me for one reason or another… And when I resisted, he…" She dropped off, staring down at her left wrist, rubbing the scars with her fingers. "He…" she struggled to speak but words failed her as tears burned behind her eyes. Without another word, she held out her arm to him, and David hesitantly took her hand into his. For a moment, there was a pause in which David stared at her fingertips, his own fingers gently stroking them. The moment ended quickly, and he gulped as he immediately allowed his hands to fall to his lap.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his face reddening in embarrassment.

Calm and serene, Kris brought her arm to her lap and whispered in return, "It's all right. I don't mind." There was another long pause as they stared intently into one another. Swallowing nervously, Kris finally held out her hand again, slowly, and pointed to the scars on her wrist.

"Oh my," David let out, his hands once again taking her arm as he stared with utmost concern at the imperishable mark.

"For six years I had to take a regular injection of the special anti-venom to keep the venom neutral in my blood stream. You see, the strange thing about Jet's venom is that white blood cells can't get rid of it, all they can do is vainly kill themselves fighting against it. If I ever forgot to take the anti-venom every four hours, my body would react to the poison as though I had been bitten for the first time," Kris explained quietly, as David continued to look at the scars. "Luckily, I don't have to take the shots anymore."

"Why is that?" he asked, curious and concerned.

"Because, my body eventually was able to adapt. My mutant genes were able to teach my body to produce the same chemicals as the anti-venom. It was a miracle when one day I forgot to take the anti-venom only to discover six hours later that I was fine." She grew silent at the end of her sentence, and watched as he took her hand into his, holding it gently as he stared back into the fire. Tears suddenly forming in her eyes, Kris whispered, "Though, the dream was so vivid! I could feel everything. It was so vivid!" Without thinking, she leaned her head against his shoulder, tears hanging on the edge of her eyes.

"Where have I seen you before?" she asked in a trembling whisper, closing her eyes in thought and secret pain. Running her fingers along the back of his hand, she stared intently at his callused fingers from the years of plucking at the guitar and constant scratching of pencils on paper. "I know you!" she muttered. "Please, Blacklight, help me remember," she said, once again closing her eyes.

Shivering at the sudden sound of that name, David moved so that Kris had to sit straight, looking at him in fear and anxiety. "How do you know my name?" he asked in shock. "No one has called me that for years. Who told you? Did Jet tell you?"

Shaking her head, Kris's face tightened in worry as she muttered, "Jet? No… No one told me anything."

Staring at her intently, he put his hands to her shoulders and questioned, "Then how do you know it?"

Tears falling over her cheeks, she let out, "I don't know. It just came to me. I don't know." He let his hands fall away as his eyes pleaded for her to continue. "Just when I look at you, that name comes to mind. I can't explain it. I'm not reading your thoughts or anything, I swear! I just… I know you from somewhere."

Silence, and David stared at her, terrified. "I'm sorry," he whispered after a long time sitting in the fire lit darkness. "I just don't associate myself with that name anymore."

"What do you mean?" Kris inquired quietly, but David refused to respond, his thoughts lingering like shadows in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she muttered, staring down at her hands in nervousness. "I'm going to get to bed."

"Okay," David replied with a quick nod, his eyes dodging her very gaze. "I hope you sleep well." Then he smiled, finally looking back into her eyes.

Smiling in relief, Kris nodded and said, "You too. Good night, David." With that, she stood and made her way back to the stairs.

"Good night, Kris," he called quietly after her, his eyes following her as she proceeded up the stairs. Tears lingered there for a minute, and a lifetime of guilt and pain shown in the very fabric of his being.


	5. Blackened Lights

__

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Robert "Iceman" Drake, Jean Grey, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr, "Black" Tom Cassidy, Peter "Colossus" Rasputin, Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock, a.k.a. "Psylocke", and Mastermind) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet "Viper" Black, Kristina "Phantom (X)" James, Tamiko "Sonic" Kaneshige, Caleb "Hephaestus" Tucker, Deanna "Medusa" Barnes, Matthew "Falcon" James, Tina Andrews "Gypsum" Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited.

X-Men: "The Hunt for Black Tom"

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you, and everything you do. Yeah they were all yellow. I came along, I wrote a song for you, and all the things you do. And it was called 'Yellow.' So then I took my turn. Oh what a thing to have done! And it was all 'Yellow.' Your skin… Oh yeah, your skin and bones turn into something beautiful." –Coldplay, "Yellow"

"And this is my apology. I killed myself from the inside out. And all my fears have pushed you out. And I wish for things that I don't need. All I wanted. And what I chase won't set me free. All I wanted. And I get scared, but I'm not crawling' on my knees." -Goo Goo Dolls, "Sympathy"

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Chapter V: Blackened Lights

"Mommy!" a small voice squealed from behind the chatter in the halls as Kris walked along toward the dining hall for breakfast. Turning, she watched as a small child with amber brown hair pushed her way through the legs of students and teachers. "Mommy!" she screamed again, her hazel eyes alight with delight. Her baby cheeks pouching out above her grin, the girl wrapped her arms around Kris's leg, kissing the young woman's knee in excitement. Putting her hand on the child's head, Kris glanced at Jet, who had approached from the crowds, his eyes darting back and forth between Kris and the girl as pain lingered behind his pupils.

Confusion dwelt upon Kris's face as she fought to decipher Jet's gaze. Before she could speak, Jet slowly went to one knee, his left hand outstretched, as though he yearned to touch the little girl. "Evie," he stuttered, his voice barely rising high enough for Kris to hear him. The girl turned her head to him, her smile flickering. "She—she's not Mummy," he fought to let out, his voice choking in his throat. It was in that moment that Kris noticed the striking resemblance the girl bore to Tina; her smooth olive skin and long willowy legs, and the small mouth beneath a small pug nose. But her eyes were set off of the bridge of her nose, stretching long but wide, the same as Jet's. And Tina had had light blue eyes.

Tears were forming behind Jet's eyes as the child shook her head whenever he spoke, as though she were trying to ward off an unheard voice inside of her mind. "E-Evie…" he whispered, putting a soft hand to her face, but the child shied away, clinging tightly to Kris's leg. At this, a tear escaped Jet's eyes, but he quickly wiped it away. At that moment, a tall redheaded woman pushed her way to them. Catching sight of Evie, she sighed and said:

"Hanna Evelyn Black!" The girl's eyes shot to the woman, and her grip on Kris loosened. But the woman's exasperated demeanor faded when she noticed Jet. "Oh, sorry, Jet. I didn't know you were here," she apologized.

"It's all right, Jean," Jet muttered quietly, his paining eyes still staring into his daughter's beautiful face.

"Evie, were you saying hello to your daddy?" Jean asked playfully, gesturing at Jet.

Immediately, Evie's grip on Kris tightened and she said, "I was saying Hi to Mommy!" Jean's eyes flicked up to Kris's face, and her lips pulled into a tight line. Kris stared back at her, partially confused and embarrassed, but another part of her silently laughed as she felt the woman attempt to probe her mind.

__

You can't. Kris's voice whispered into Jean's thoughts. _Have you forgotten?_ A smug grin spread over her face as she tapped her temples smartly.

Pulling herself up straight, Jean stared coldly at her and stated, "She's not your mommy, Evie!" Striding forward, she gripped Evie's hand and made to take her away, but Evie shook her off and clung even tighter to Kris's leg. "Come on," Jean commanded, reaching for her.

Tears began to pour from Evie's eyes, and she began to cry, "Mommy! Mommy!" Pulling her struggling into her arms, Jean made to carry her away.

"She is not your mother!" Jean shouted at the child, who had now snatched onto the collar of Kris's jacket.

"Mommy!" the girl screamed, her hazel eyes flooded with tears. Jean managed to pull her away and take her down the hall, all the while Evie's screaming echoing over the now silent students who pretended not to be paying attention.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Kris shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She looked down at Jet, who was struggling with tears as he knelt on the floor.

There was a long moment before Kris said, "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"It's all right," Jet whispered as he stood, slowly so as to hide his tears. "It's just, I never realized until now how much you look like Tina."

Kris stared at him in silence, afraid to move, to speak.

By mid-morning, classes had fully commenced, so Kris made her way across the mansion, occupying her time until lunch hour rolled around. Finding the special panel of wall out in the main hallway, she found the almost completely camouflaged button and pressed it. In a moment, the wall opened as an elevator door, and Kris stepped inside the well-lit metal lift and waited as the doors closed, and she moved down to the lower levels. As the doors opened, she stared out into the hall, modern stainless steel composing the walls and numerous X-shaped doors. Stepping out, her shoes clicked on the linoleum floors as she headed to the end of the hallway. Standing in front of the last door, Kris put her hand on the large X and closed her eyes.

How she had longed to enter that special room when she was a teenager. She had always yearned to discover the secrets of Cerebro on her own. Leaning her head thoughtfully against the door, she thought of her younger days in which she had stood outside this door and done the same as now. Laughing, she stepped away and shook her head. "Maybe someday," she whispered aloud.

With that, she turned and headed for the door on the opposite end of the hall. There, she waited as they automatically opened at her approach. Stepping inside, she looked around as the computer voice echoed, "Welcome to the Danger Room." Taking in a sweet breath, she smelled the sharp scent of sweat. Turning to the program pad on the wall, she typed in a command, and the texture of the room changed from the steel lining to a wooden floored gym. Typing in the next code, a punching bag lowered from the ceiling at the far corner of the room. Walking to it, she stared around, memories flooding her, and she playfully let her fist sail. It collided with the bag hard, her middle knuckle splitting open. Cradling her hand, she laughed. Blood was gently oozing along the cut, and she muttered, "Should have known."

"That was a bit stupid, don't you think," someone called from the doorway. Turning, she looked at Jet's thin form and smiled.

"Oh well," she said as he walked to her, his boots clicking loudly on the floor. As he approached, she continued, "At least I know that my blood is real. There are things that never change, Jet, and pain happens to be one of them. No matter how many times I punch that bag, as long as I punch it that particular way, it will cut my knuckles."

"But you don't need to bleed in order to figure out if you're real," he let out, partially confused by her statements.

Shaking her head, Kris said, "But without pain, Jet Black, we would never know that something's wrong." At this, Jet took her injured hand into his and gently massaged her knuckles. There was a long moment of silence as Kris looked around, and she let out an airy laugh and commented, "Guess what. This is where we first met."

There was a long pause, and Jet looked up at her, pain in his eyes. "Yeah, it is," he whispered almost inaudibly. Looking back down at her hand, Jet continued to massage her knuckles. His demeanor was sad and resolute.

"Hey, Jet," Kris inquired softly, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he whispered, shrugging his shoulders. "Just still shaking off this morning. You see, before Tina was…killed, Mastermind found my daughter and did some illusion stuff to her. It…it…um…it left a bit of damage. Now she…she doesn't even recognize me…" There was a long moment, and he struggled with his tears once more. When he felt composed, he said, "Speaking of when we first met, what were you going to ask me back at the house?"

"Oh nothing," she let out quickly. "It doesn't matter anymore. I just had a dream the other night, and felt like I needed to talk to somebody."

"Did you ever talk to anyone?" he asked, his eyes still on her hand.

Nodding, she answered, "Yeah, I did."

"Who?"

"David," she replied quietly. He nodded abruptly, his eyes focused on her hand as though he feared to look anywhere else. "There's something I trust about him," she continued thoughtfully. "He's easy to talk to and understanding."

"You don't know that," Jet let out sharply. "You don't know him, Kris."

"See, that's the strange thing," Kris said earnestly, looking at the locks of his wavy black hair. "I feel like I do know him."

"But you DON'T!" he suddenly shouted, his eyes shooting into hers. Taken aback, Kris stared into him, confused. Seething, something burnt inside his eyes, and he stated, "I've known him for years, Kris. And there are some things that you shall never understand about him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she let out, offended.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," he snapped, looking back down to her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but as Jet continued to massage her knuckles, she felt a great wave of anger and sadness flowing from him. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the resolute feeling and was suddenly overwhelmed with his emotions that she gasped in stressed shock. He looked up at her, and whispered, "What? What is it?"

Shaking her head, she gulped, fighting to rid herself of his emotions. But they only lingered, his anger and hopeless depression sending her mind spiraling in concern. "You never told me how much it hurts," she commented in a whisper, staring into his violet eyes. Daggers in his gaze, he quickly looked away. Putting her hand through his hair, she consoled him, saying, "You can trust me, Jet. We'll bring her death to rights."

He simply shook his head, and Kris gazed at him, confused and concerned. "No," he whispered, his eyes dodging her stare. "It's not that." After a moment, he looked at her, and she heard his thoughts just as he said, "It's you… It's how much I want you." He reached up and brushed her cheek, and her eyes closed in ecstasy. Fingering her hair, he drew closer, and leaned in.

"No," Kris said, breaking away. Turning away from him, she grew hard and stated, "I told you, I can't do this."

Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, "But you cannot deny that you want it." Her mind flashed and she could hear, _Oh, your skin is so warm._ His hands were on her hips, and tears burnt behind her eyes. _Are you afraid?_

Stepping away, she put her hands to her face and shouted, "No! No, I don't want it!"

"But, Kris—"

"Stop! Just stop," she turned, her hand out in defiance. Tears hanging on her eyelids, she continued, "I'm sorry that your life is horrible. I'm sorry your wife is dead. I'm sorry your daughter doesn't know you. I'm sorry that you cannot cope with your losses. But you are still very much in love with Tina, Jet. And even if I may want to love you, I could never give in. I love you as any great friend would. You miss Tina. You loved her. But I will never be your whore!" And with that, she turned and ran out, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Inside the elevator, she waited till the doors closed before she sank to the floor and drenched the world with tears.

Her face was red with the salt from her tears as she walked slowly down the hall toward her room. Struggling with tears, she halted in her steps and leaned against the wall and sighed.

"Kris," a voice called gently. Looking up, she saw David approaching from down the hallway, his dark hair fluttering over her face as he walked. "Are you okay?"

Standing tall, she nodded as she pushed back the tears. He came to her, only feet away as she stared curiously into his eyes. There was a moment before she said, "You're tall." Letting out a thin laugh, he smiled inquisitively.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, amused.

Smiling in return, she quirked her head to the side and said, "I don't know. I just never really noticed before now." With that, she giggled and looked past him over his shoulder in thought. "And to answer your question," she said quietly, "I think I'll be okay."

Looking into her with those large blue eyes, a thought danced between them in mixed concern and curiosity. They stood in silence for long passing minutes, simply staring into each other, misty wonder painted on their faces. Kris grew curious as she stared into his sparkling eyes, and questioned, "You aren't a telepath are you?"

At this David laughed, and he shook his head. "No, I'm not," he said quietly, a large smile spreading over his face. "But you are?"

Grinning, Kris laughed, almost unsure of why so. "Yes, I've told you that, haven't I?" she stated cheerfully.

"Well, not really. Just, when you rescued me, you spoke to my thoughts… It's hard to forget something like that," he replied. A moment, and he asked, "You don't read people's minds all the time, do you?"

"No, of course not!" she exclaimed with a grin. "I have trouble reading anyone's thoughts ever. Even if I don't like them very much, I hate doing it. I only use it when I feel it's necessary. Which is why I don't do it very often."

"Oh, that's good to know," he added thoughtfully. Turning, he leaned back against the wall and sighed in thought. Looking to her, he leant his head to the wall and asked, "Did I ever show you what I can do?"

Curious and intrigued, Kris shook her head with a confused smile and whispered, "Nope. I know it has something to do with light."

"And shadow," he added with a knowing smile. Laughing, he opened a hand to her and requested, "Give me your hand."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly, stretching out her left hand. He took it slowly, taking both of his hands and wrapping them around her one. Glancing around, David blinked and the lamps in the hallway turned out. It was dark except for the daylight that streamed in from the windows of the open bedrooms.

"Don't move," he instructed passively, his grip on her hand soft and careful. Bringing his hands with hers to his mouth, he blew his breath against her fingertips, and she felt a gentle tickle along her knuckles. It spread like water up her arm, and suddenly the hall was alight with a bright white light that streamed from her fingertips and the ends of her hair, illuminating the fairness of her skin and the blue of her eyes. Laughing in amazement, she stared around at the brightness of everything. He grinned and slowly let go of her hands, the light lingered for a moment, then he shut his eyes and it slowly faded, the lamps coming to light once more.

"Wow," she let out, a smile painted across her face that would not flicker. "That was so awesome."

"I thought you might like that," he whispered softly. A long moment passed, and she watched him as he stared into the wood of the walls in deep thought.

Swallowing in hesitation, she bit her lip in inquiring thought and said, "David." He paused before looking over at her, his eyes shimmering. "Hey," she said in concern, abandoning her current thoughts, "hey, are you alright?"

Nodding, he gulped and stuttered, "Yes, yes, I'm fine." He waited a moment and then said, "I just… I just realized something. I just remembered…"

And he trailed off, leaving Kris staring into him with concern. "Remembered what?" she asked in eager longing.

Shaking his head, he turned to look at her. Brushing her cheek with his fingertips, he smiled weakly and said, "I know we've met somewhere before. I could never forget such a face…" Brushing back hair from her face to her ears, he added, "Such a wondrous smile." Tears lingered inside of his eyes, and Kris grew worried and confused. His touch was so light and comfortable. Then, he whispered, "What am I thinking now, Kris?"

A tear escaped down his cheek as she hesitated with this statement. Reaching up, she gently wiped the tear away. "What am I thinking?" he repeated in an anxious whisper. Her hand paused against the side of his face; she could feel his skin, smooth and rough at the same time. Drawing closer, she closed her eyes and waited, unsure if she should proceed. He gripped her hand, waiting for her to continue. His breath was hot against her face, and she hesitated. "Please," he breathed, and she drew closer.

"Okay," she whispered, reaching out her other hand and placing it on the other side of his face. Sighing, she let her thoughts go and she was suddenly inside of David, wandering in passive sadness. Touching his current thoughts, she saw him standing there, his hands gently resting at her waist. Her breathing timed with his as they streamed in one consciousness.

__

My name is Blacklight… he whispered, and she heard him. _My name is Blacklight because…_ And as his thoughts proceeded to explain, his memories played out like a picture before her. Tears streamed over her cheeks as she withdrew from his thoughts. Opening her eyes, she looked to see his flooded with tears. "What do you see?" he gasped in an anxious whisper.

Stepping back, she shook her head and whispered through her tears, "Nothing… I saw nothing." Her head ached in stress and disbelief.

Backing away, she shook her head, and he whispered, "Kris, I'm so sorry." Shaking her head, as though denying her own thoughts, she struggled with tears.

"I—I have to go," she whispered, turning and disappearing down the hallway. He watched her go, helplessly leaning into the wall fighting his own sorrow.

Striding into Jet's room, Kris searched for him, and found no one there. Pacing to the bed, Kris crouched down and pulled out a briefcase from beneath it. Throwing it onto the bed, she fumbled with the lock. Reaching out, she found Jet and searched his mind for the code. Finding it quickly with him none the wiser that she was even in his thoughts, she punched the pass-code into the lock and waited as it clicked and opened.

Pulling it open, she fumbled with the manila folders and found one labeled, "Forslund, David: History." Slowly opening it, she handled pictures and papers. She looked at a photograph of him as a young teenager, his hair short and wispy. Struggling with tears, she stared at another photo, and he was only about eighteen with his arm slung over young Jet's shoulders, smiles across their faces. And no other person behind them but Erik Lehnsherr, his grey hair soft against his grey eyes.

"No, it's not true," she whispered to herself, wiping away tears that ran from her eyes.

"What are you doing?" someone asked angrily from behind her. She turned to look into Jet's violet snake eyes, and only grimaced when she saw that he held a lighted cigarette in his right hand.

Throwing down the file, she stood slowly and asked, "Why did you never tell me that David was in Magneto's Brotherhood?"

"What?!" Jet nearly shouted in frustration, anger, and disbelief. "Why are you going through those files? Those are confidential! Plus, you were never supposed to know. No one was. David and I agreed upon that."

"But he told me, Jet," Kris let out in tears.

"Did he?" Jet inquired in annoyance, putting the cigarette to his mouth and taking in a deep breath. After a moment, he blew out the smoke, and Kris rolled his eyes in aggravation.

"What is that?" she nearly screamed in a mixture of anger and sorrow as she gestured at the cigarette in his mouth. "I thought you quit smoking a long time ago."

Grimacing, Jet took another long inhale of the cigarette and blew it out. "Well, times have changed, Kris," he replied.

Shaking her head, she looked down and picked up the file, muttering, "Such a disgusting habit." Opening the file defiantly, she stared over the pages to him.

He breathed heavily, unsure of how he should speak. "Put the file down," he stated slowly and sternly. She simply raised an eyebrow, and she slowly turned another page. "Put it down now," he said threateningly. Pretending to ignore his words, she looked down at the file and began rifling through the pages in false interest. "Why are you trying to piss me off?" he nearly shouted.

"I don't know," she retorted in anger. "Maybe because you're acting so contemptuous." In frustration, she threw the file back onto the bed. The papers scattered haphazardly across the blankets, and Jet strode forward in rage. He moved as though he would strike her, but drew short and put the cigarette back to his lips. In utter disgust and anger, Kris snatched it from his mouth and crushed it in her hand. At this, he grew terribly upset and lashed out, striking the back of his hand across her face. Swaying with the blow, Kris's hand flew to where he had hit her. Looking into his eyes in fury, tears welled in them and she whispered, "I thought you may have changed, Jet Black. But now I can see that you are still the same angry teenager you always were. Only one thing has changed. You no longer have me to stand behind you." And with that, she turned and strode out of the bedroom.

He stood there in shock, his eyes staring down at the papers on the bed. Tears shimmered in them as he fought his temper. In a moment of decisiveness, he turned and ran after her. Catching her in the hallway, he grabbed her wrist and turned her to face him.

"What?! What do you want?" she screamed struggling with his grip.

Staring her down, he asked, "Why did he tell you?" She looked back at him, and he continued in rage, "Why did he do it? Why? Why? WHY?"

"I don't know!" she yelled, breaking his grasp and stepping away. "Because he saw something in me, perhaps. And maybe I see something in him!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he inquired suspiciously, his voice letting out a distinct hiss in his anger. "He worked for the enemy, Kris!"

"So did you! And I don't care that he worked for Magneto!" she screamed in reply. "It was ten years ago, Jet! Why should I hold that against him?"

"Because he hurt people!" he shouted so roughly that his voice shook her in shock. Seething, he breathed, "He hurt you."

She froze, her eyes boring into his in indignation and suspicion. "What do you mean?" There was a moment as Jet took control of himself, and he shook his head.

"Do you not get the feeling that you guys have met before now? That there is some strange familiarity and connection between the two of you?" He questioned. Kris nodded ever so softly, unsure if she truly wanted him to continue. "It's because you have met. When Magneto kidnapped you and put in those bloody implants, David was there the whole time. He was the one who filled you with anti-venom day and night so that you could go for hours without it during the operations. He was the one who kept you locked up in your room. In his amazing 'genius,'" Jet let out in contempt, "he was the one who conceived of the idea of experimenting with the implants. It was his notion, his work, his scientific talent that assisted in making you bear those scars on your wrist for the rest of your life."

"No, he didn't," she screamed in disbelief and horror, tears hanging in her eyes. "You are the one who gave me this." With that she clutched her wrist and held it close to her chest. "He would have told me. He would have recognized me. I never sensed that he was hiding it from me."

"Kris, he was the one that suggested that Magneto use his own flesh and blood," Jet cried in rage, gesturing at Kris.

Swinging out a fist, she brought it down against his jaw, screaming, "Don't say that! He's not my father. None of this is true." Clutching at her hair in frustration and disbelief, she repeated amid tears, "It's not true! It's not true!"

Rubbing his aching jaw, Jet whispered, "I'm sorry, Kris."

Turning upon him in rage, she shouted, "Don't dare tell me you're sorry! You could care less how much this affected me. You want me to believe you, because that would mean I might just hate David. But I'm not going to. I still see something inside of him, and you will not take that away!"

"So you do care for him?" Jet nearly screamed in anger and jealousy.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But that doesn't mean I don't care for you, Jet. I just care for him differently."

"You know that he will never return those feelings, those sentiments," he stated coldly. "You are nothing but a measly criminal, Kris. That doesn't impress him. He will never love you!"

"Get out of my sight!" she screamed, shoving him back. "I don't know why I ever came back."

It was a quiet night, and the weather was strangely moderate, so the students were taking a break from the winter and enjoying their first taste of spring. Likely a day like this would not grace them again for a number of weeks. Due to the lack of people in the mansion, David found his attention growing detached, and he soon discovered roaming the halls very tiresome. Heading down the stairs, he made his way absentmindedly into the kitchen where Tamiko and Bobby stood, leaning their elbows on the wooden counter, staring ahead mesmerized. Following their gaze, David laid eyes on Kris who stood on the far side of the kitchen, slowly tossing a garden salad with a pair of wooden spoons. She seemed unaware of their presence as she continued to rhythmically shift the green lettuce leaves in the bowl in front of her on the counter.

"She's been tossing that same salad for twenty-five minutes," Bobby whispered monotonously, his icy blue eyes unblinking.

Strangely unable to tear his eyes away from the constant movement of the spoons, David inquired in a hushed tone, "You've been timing her?"

Tamiko nodded slowly, mumbling an "mhmm", her red-streaked brown hair flowing like streams of water over her shoulders.

They stared in silence for nearly five minutes before David muttered, "It's somewhat hypnotizing, isn't it?" The other two muttered their agreement just as their attention was broken by a soft _bamf_ from behind. The three of them started in surprise, and turned to meet Kurt's yellow eyes, which darted immediately to Kris.

Sighing, his tail dropped to the floor in exasperation, and he blinked his long lashes slowly as he asked, "How long has she been keeping this up?"

"About thirty minutes," Tamiko answered, habitually checking the blue watch around her wrist.

Sighing once again, Kurt shook his head and whispered, "So, she's cooking dinner. Something must be on her mind." They stared at him perplexed, and he quickly answered their gaze. "You see, when Kris is upset with something, she usually does one or more of these three things. She retreats to her room, writing or blaring her music. She starts singing to herself, or she will cook."

"What do you think may be wrong?" David asked with genuine concern, but he seemed completely aware of the answer. His blue eyes played about Kurt's face in worry and care.

But a voice cut through the hushed room, sharp and agitated. "Why don't you just mind your own business, Blacklight?!" David turned to look at a disgruntled Jet standing in the open doorway. His hair was strewn about his eyes and greasier than David had ever seen it, and he wore no shirt over his pale chest. His pants were wrinkled and frayed along the edges, his entire persona suggesting that he had been drinking heavily. The icy stare from Jet's bloodshot eyes stung David, and catching a bit of the air between, Bobby signaled to Tamiko, and both sidled silently from the room.

"Excuse me, Jet?" David asked softly, confused and very much taken aback.

"I said," Jet shouted, "piss off!" Stepping toward him, Jet suddenly appeared much taller than he really was, and David then noticed that his friend's fangs where extended and dripping with their toxic venom. Amid Jet's advances, Kris began to hum quietly to herself while moving from the salad to a heavy pot of boiling water on the stove, pretending not to hear them.

"Jet, what's the matter?" Kurt interrupted, stepping forward, his hands held out. "Have you been drinking?"

"Stay out of this, Nightcrawler!" Jet snapped, his tongue distinctly letting out a sharp hiss. Turning back to David, Jet pointed a slender finger at him and began to mutter to himself incoherently, "You--you... That's all... You're the reason behind all this--you--you are the reason she will not have me."

"Jet," David said, holding his hands up in defense. "What are you talking about?" Jet took another step forward, his fangs bared threateningly. Swallowing, David took a step backward, reasoning, "You need rest. You're drunk."

"Shut it!" Jet screamed angrily, letting his fist fly toward David's jaw. Moving quickly, David deflected his blow with his right forearm. Pulling back quickly, his fists in front of his face, Jet seemed more annoyed now, and shouted, "Damn you! You took her." And without any sort of warning, Jet sprang forward, his fangs flashing, ready to bury them into David's neck. The only thing David could do was immediately hold out his hands and fall backward onto the floor. In that moment, a splash of venom flew onto David's face at the same moment there occurred a large flash of light and an accompanying crash that echoed through the room.

Looking quickly around the room, Jet's face contorted in horror and he dashed from the room. David leaped to his feet the moment he was no longer weighed down, and he looked over to see Kris sprawled on the floor, wincing in pain. The pot of boiling water had fallen from the stove and apparently landed on Kris's shins the same moment she had fallen backward in surprise. Water drenched her capris, feet and shins, her skin already reddening due to the scalding temperatures.

Fighting to stand up although her legs did not seem to want to support her, she slapped the hardwood floor and screamed, "Dammit, David! I don't know what you just did but it scared the hell out of me." Her voice was stressed in pain as she continued to pull herself up. "I think you just blew up my fire or something! If you can't learn to control your powers, then you're going to get someone killed." Furrowing his brow in remorse and sympathy, he paced to her while wiping his face with his sleeve, kneeling down beside her.

After a moment, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." At this he leaned forward to examine her burnt legs, but Kris simply pushed herself away in a mixture of hostility and fear. She was trembling beyond measure, and David looked into her eyes in worried curiosity. She only averted her gaze, staring hard into the floor. "Let me help you," he said, reaching out his hands toward her legs.

Again, she backed away, commanding, "Don't come near me."

"Kris," he whispered, "please." She refused to look at him, her body shaking only more violently.

"Why didn't you and Jet tell me?" she pouted in a whisper, her voice trembling as she pulled back in pain.

"I thought I did tell you."

"Quit playing games, David," she shouted. At this, David bit down on his back teeth, pursing his lips in an uncomfortable shame. "I now know that it was you who—who aided in kidnapping me and making these damned implants."

At this, David's mouth suddenly fell open as his memory flooded back, the pieces finally falling into place. "Magneto's daughter?" he muttered quietly. "So, that was you?"

"You mean--you didn't know who I was?" Kris asked gently, at last meeting his eyes, hers now filling with tears from the pain.

In reply, David simply shook his head. "We think that Magneto may have done something to my memory, because I'm having trouble recognizing your face, your name. But only lately I've started remembering."

"Oh," Kris let out, guilt easing into her thoughts. "I guess he didn't do a very good job with that, because you seem to be remembering everything now."

"Sort of, but not completely," David whispered, his voice barely audible. " I--I'm sorry. I was--a teenager then--and... I didn't really—I thought I was working for the good guys."

"Yeah, Magneto can be like that. He's such a self-righteous, pompous ass." A moment, and she let out, "Sorry. I need to start watching my language." Another pause, the agony in her legs becoming unbearable. "You have to understand something though—I'm not really his daughter," she said gently.

"You're not? But Magneto always seemed so sure," he inquired quietly.

"I don't care how sure he seemed. I'll never believe it," she let out defiantly, watching as he looked down at her burnt legs that pained beyond measure.

"Hold still for a moment," he whispered decisively, stretching out his hands. Placing them on her scalded legs, she stared in awe as his fingers and palms dissolved into a cool shadow that quickly cooled her wounds. After a long moment, his hands regained their form and he asked, "Is that better?"

Giggling, she said in a pout, "Yes, daddy." They both laughed, and she asked, "Is that the other side of your power. You can dissolve into shadow." He nodded. "Light and shadow," she muttered, "that's pretty cool."


	6. Sinister Echoes

_Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Robert "Iceman" Drake, Jean Grey, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr, "Black" Tom Cassidy, Peter "Colossus" Rasputin, Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock, a.k.a. "Psylocke", and Mastermind) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet "Viper" Black, Kristina "Phantom (X)" James, Tamiko "Sonic" Kaneshige, Caleb "Hephaestus" Tucker, Deanna "Medusa" Barnes, Matthew "Falcon" James, Tina Andrews "Gypsum" Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited._

_X-Men: "The Hunt for Black Tom"_

_"I'm not a perfect person. There's many things I wish I didn't do. But I continue learning. I never meant to do those things to you. And so I have to say before I go that I just want you to know. I found a reason for me. To change who I used to be. A reason to start over new. And the reason is you. I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's something I must live with everyday. And all the pain I put you through. I wish that I could take it all away, and be the one who catches all your tears._" _-Hoobastank, "The Reason_"

_"I've been driving for an hour just talking to the rain. Said I've been driving crazy, and it's keeping you awake. So give me one good reason to say why I should stay. 'Cause I don't wanna waste another moment saying things we never meant to say." –Michelle Branch, "Breathe"_

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**_Author's Comment: I'm very proud of this chapter. It's taken a long time to write, but it's finally completed. Though, the last bit was done in a hurried moment to escape a dreaded writer's block, so I'm afraid that there's a German speaking sequence in there that has randomly spoken dialogue, but I couldn't find anyway to fix it. Sorry about that. Other than that, I'm very pleased with it. Enjoy!_**

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Chapter VI: Sinister Echoes

Crouched in the bed of her truck, Kris cradled her head upon her knees, shivering in the cold and bitter wind. A clear plastic wrapping, speckled with crumbs, lay on the flooring beside her, and she stared at it with a tinge of regret upon her face. Her stomach growled. The small muffin had not been enough for her. She shivered, as she stared at the stretching interstate that she had already driven. Sighing, she began to feel the hundreds of miles that now lay between her and the school. She was startled when the ringing of her cell phone from inside the truck suddenly sounded through the open window at the driver's seat.

Standing, she leapt gracefully from the bed of the truck and opened the door. Fumbling with her purse, she removed her phone and stared at the screen. The number was one that she did not recognize, and frowning, she climbed back up into the bed and hesitated picking it up. Finally, she bit her lower lip and answered. Putting it to her ear, she greeted quietly, "Hello?"

"Hello, Kris," a deep, smooth accented voice greeted from the other end. "How has the long drive been? Know where you're going yet?"

"Who is this?" she inquired, shifting her weight atop her knees as the cold wind rushed about her. Closing her eyes when there was no reply, she projected her thoughts out over the line. She tugged hard at the sound of his breathing at the other end, and her head pounded the farther she reached and harder she pulled. His breathing paused, and she could sense that he felt her pulling at his thoughts with rigorous effort. "Black Tom…" she whispered, releasing her grasp from his thoughts, gasping for breath at the sudden relief from the strenuous exertion. Hot sweat rolled in drops down her cheeks despite the freezing air that blew, stinging around her.

He let out a laugh and said, "And you're a telepath—strong one too."

Grimacing, she stood in long held in rage, and asked, "Where are you? How do you know me? How did you get this number?"

"So many questions," he commented with a snicker. "Why don't you just find out the answers yourself?" he suggested. Kris paused and searched her own thoughts. Her temples were throbbing, and she had no wish to stretch her mind like that again. "_Tut dein Kopf weh_, Phantom?" he mocked with a light laugh.

Seething in inner fury, she fought the pounding in her head, and she whispered coolly, "No, I'm fine." And with that, she sat down and squeezed her eyes shut in utmost concentration. Throwing out her mind again, she let out a slight groan of strain. Pain throbbed inside her temples, and the burning sweat flowed over her lashes, mixing with stressed tears that rolled over her cheeks. His laughter echoed sinisterly in her consciousness, but her stubborn will caused her to push harder, her heart pounding inside her throat. In long moments that felt like hours, she found him and flooded his senses. A misty picture swam into her sight, and there she saw a bruised and bloodied Tamiko, her beaten form bound to a metal chair.

"Kris… don't tell him anything!" her best friend shouted, agonizing pain rasping in her throat. "Don't say anything!" Her voice suddenly went silent as a sharp pain stung at Kris's neck.

Tears stinging her now wide eyes, she leaped to her feet and shouted, "Damn you, you bastard! If you lay a finger on her, I swear to God—you son of a bitch—I'll kill you!"

Cassidy failed to speak as he let out a mocking laugh. "Don't worry, Phantom. Medusa is keeping her quite comfortable." There was a moment of silence, and then suddenly a shriek of pain resounded in the background.

Pushing back the tears, her hand went to her mouth as she fell to her knees. Cursing, she muttered, "God damn you, you son of a bitch!" Her lips quivered against her fingertips as tears rolled steadily over them. "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. Release her now, or I'll kill you!"

"I do believe that you are in no position to demand, Phantom. Right now, I am the one with your best friend, and I'm the one holding the syringe." Kris was blinded by tears as Black Tom continued, "Tell me, Kris, which is more important to you—killing me in a defiant act of revenge, or saving Tamiko from this serum? You know what this injection does if given enough. All that you have to do is look at Jet's daughter." He paused, waiting for Kris to speak, but words failed her. Sighing, he added, "But, only three in every twenty people even react to it. Shall we find out if your friend falls into that ratio?"

"No!" Kris shouted. "No, you mustn't. Tami is innocent. It's me you want, Tom. Don't hurt her anymore. I'll do anything you tell me. Just don't hurt her." Her voice faltered as her ribs were racked in sobs.

"Very well," he relented with an unseen smile. "Listen carefully. You must do everything I say, or I will have her—"

"Yes, yes!" Kris interrupted in fright and urgency. "Anything! I'll do anything!"

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**53 Hours Earlier**

A solemn night was upon the mansion, and a soft and gentle snow fell over the fields. Kris lay awake in bed, staring out the balcony windows at the silent snow. Her hair fell lackadaisically into her shimmering blue eyes, and she gave out a long sigh. It was cold.

Shivering beneath her flannel pajamas, she continued to watch the snowfall against the blackness of the night. The mansion was deadly quiet.

Rubbing her eyes, she leaned over to the nightstand and removed a pair of glasses from their case next to the digital clock. Placing the thin glasses over her nose and ears, she stared around before heaving another sigh and decisively climbing out of bed. Walking past the windows, her feet stinging on the cold wooden floor, she silently opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.

Wandering along almost silently, she found that she had crept downstairs and was now standing in the foyer, looking around. She could not decide why she was even there. She had simply felt compelled to get up and move. There she stood, for long minutes, casting her eyes around the silent darkness. Suddenly, as though it was meant to happen the entire time, a soft voice rang out through the silent corridor. Jolting, her body quickly melted away, and she stood there, invisible in the hallway, staring down toward where from which the voice had come.

Moving closer to the end of the hallway, she suddenly became aware of a shaft of light from beneath a door. She stopped next to it, completely able to hear the voices from inside.

"It's not that I don't want to tell her this myself," a man was saying, a strength and wisdom in his voice that felt sturdy and safe. "It's simply that I do not want her to go out looking for him."

"But can we be sure that this is true?" Kurt's voice inquired, his soft accent making Kris's heartbeat subside in comfort.

"Come on, Kurt," a voice that sounded distinctly like Sean Cassidy, a great mentor of Kris's when she was younger. His Irish accent was very prominent as he proceeded to say, "Lehnsherr has been saying it for years. Even before Kris ever came here."

At this, Kris's stomach tightened, her heart beating inside her throat. What was this about? Stepping closer to the door, she listened intently.

"I know," Kurt said, his voice quivering in trepidation. "But Magneto is known to be dishonest and…"

"Blood doesn't lie, Kurt," the man with the strong voice interrupted. Kris suddenly realized that it was Xavier talking. At this comment, she felt her stomach turn, and she suppressed the urge to turn and run, but stood her ground, intent on hearing more. "The simple fact that Erik was brave enough to come here himself and inform me was…"

"But you can't believe everything he says, Charles!" Kurt's voice rang in a disbelieving shout. Kris could feel the cool and comfortable emotion that streamed around her when Kurt was around begin to tighten in anxiety and fear.

There was a pause and then Xavier's voice said, "I understand that this hurts you, Kurt. You are the closest thing to a father Kris has ever known, but you must also understand that you are not her father."

"_Scheiße_!" Kurt exclaimed in a trembling yell. Kris jumped in shock, tears hanging in her eyes. "I might as well be, Charles," he continued after a moment. "I have cared for her more than that lying Lehnsherr ever could. She should be my daughter!" He cried this last part loudly, and with such honest conviction that Kris had to struggle hard to hold back a sob of gratitude and fear.

Was any of this true? Had Magneto come to Xavier to tell him that he really was her biological father? Reflecting on this, Kris had to bite down on her fist to force back the tears. For ten years she had been so devoted to believing that Magneto was a liar, that none of it was true. But at hearing the words come from Charles Xavier's own mouth made her tremble in fear and shock. Suddenly, it occurred to her that it could all be true, that she was in fact the daughter of the man she despised most in the world. But the more she thought, the less she could control her emotions, and she sank to the floor, dissolving into silent tears.

In a room upstairs, David stood near the fireplace, staring down into the flickering flames, tears hanging on his eyelids. He let out a sigh and shook his head, his dark hair falling over his face. Looking down to his hands, he glanced intently at the folder he held open in his palms. The pictures of him, of Jet and Magneto all smiled back up at him. He turned a page and stared at charts and graphs, equations and puzzles all written in his own hand. A tear escaped his cheek as he closed his eyes and shut the folder slowly. Letting his arms fall to his sides, the folder slid out of his hands and fell into the fire. Opening his shining eyes, he felt an intense relief fall over him as he saw the papers burning and crumbling in the flames. "It's gone," he whispered with a smile of relieved satisfaction.

Her feet slapped loudly on the cold wooden floors as Kris ran up the stairs and down the hall. She had become visible again as she ran recklessly down the corridor, tears streaming down her face. Coming to a full stop in an open doorway, she fell into the doorframe, holding her up, her arms trembling madly. Staring into the bedroom, she realized to whom it belonged. She had not noticed that she had run straight to Jet's room. There, she looked at the empty bed and floors, knowing that he was not inside.

Slowly, she stepped inside, her legs shaking as she struggled to remain on her feet. She looked for Jet, and then saw through the glass doors that led onto the balcony, that he sat on a chair, snowflakes in his black hair. There, he looked disheveled and melancholy, a cigarette in his hand. She stared at him for a long moment, tears flooding her eyes. Had he any idea as to what she had just overheard? A steady fury was growing inside of her, and all she wanted to do was scream. Decisively, she strode across the room found on the spread of the bed an open pack of cigarettes. Bursting into another string of tears, she grabbed it and crushed it in her fist. She did not care that he smoked, and she did not intend to throw the cigarettes at the wall as forcefully as she did, but she felt no other way to release her anger.

"Why?" she whispered to herself, falling onto the bed, crying into her hands. "Why does it have to be me?" she asked in a moan. The room was unbearably cold, and she was shivering beyond control. Staring around, she quickly dissolved from sight when the balcony door slid open. Jet stepped inside and looked around, his face seeming certain that he had heard someone. After moments of searching, his misty eyes fell upon her invisible form, for he could taste the heat of her body.

"Kris?" he asked the now silent room. At this, Kris stood and ran out the door, not caring whether he could hear her or not. She ran as quickly as possible to her own room, knowing that he was following her. There, she snatched her clothing and stuffed it into a gym bag that she had at the foot of her bed. Clutching the bag to her chest, she knew that he would not be able to see it, and she watched as he ran into the room, staring around anxiously.

When he stepped out from the doorway, she slipped past him and proceeded to run down the stairs and out the doors. Her feet ached in pain when they came into contact with the snow, but she surged forward.

Willing herself to visibility, she struggled with the heavy door of her pickup truck, but pulled it open finally and climbed inside. She made to shut the door, but Jet stopped her, throwing himself against it. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I don't know!" she yelled, pushing him away, but he only held his ground. "Let me go," she shouted forcefully. "I want to go!"

"No!" he yelled in response. "Why are you leaving?" She refused to speak to him. But the tears continued to pour from her eyes. There was a silent moment, and Jet looked at her in realization. "This is about me, isn't it?"

"No," she whispered, falling into the steering wheel, resting her head there. "Just go away," she stated softly, holding her tears back. "It has nothing to do with you." The only thing she wanted now was to disappear, to become someone else. But Jet would not move. He simply stood there, staring at her.

"What's wrong?" he whispered in concern.

"Go ask Xavier," she let out bitterly. "I don't want to stay here, Jet. Just let me go. Please…"

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Jet stared at the heavy tire tracks in the snow. He stared for endless minutes, unsure of what had just happened. The wind whirled about in a freezing tempest, and Jet finally conceded and moved inside. As he approached the front doors, Kurt came bursting out in a frenzy, his yellow eyes wide in fear.

"_Was geht_?" he screamed in trepidation and disbelief as he stared at Jet's dumbfounded form. Breathing slowly, Kurt struggled with unseen tears and calmly asked, "What's going on?"

Jet stared long at him, steady and resolute as he fought to find the most appropriate words to say. But words failed him. Though, his countenance revealed the truth of the matter, and Kurt saw the answer inside of Jet's eyes.

"She's gone…" Kurt whispered, his soft voice falling with the silence of the cold snow. Jet stared at him as Kurt simply stood there, frozen in thought and dissolved in sadness.

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"Those are my conditions, Phantom," Black Tom sneered from the other end of the line. "Take them or leave them."

Kris sat in the bed of the truck, filled with unease and fury. Finally, she spoke, "So that's what you want, Tom? You want me to simply find you, alone and without escort, and you'll let her go in exchange for 'discussion' with me."

"That's all I want," he said smoothly.

Kris felt that she could not breathe. "And where am I supposed to find you?" she inquired in a whisper.

He chuckled and replied, "Now that I can't tell you. But you can find someone who knows." There was a pause and Kris inquired:

"Who?"

"Three days, Phantom," he stated, ignoring her inquiry, "that's all I'm giving you. Goodbye." And he was gone.

She listened to the penetrating silence over the phone line for long moments, her jaw set and eyes fixed forward. With tears in her eyes, she hung up the phone, swung down to the snowy road and climbed back into the driver's seat. Revving the engine, she turned the truck around and headed quickly back to the mansion.

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Kurt paced the halls, teleporting into empty rooms whenever anyone approached him. He wanted to be alone, but most of all, he longed to have Kris back.

"Kurt," someone called to him from down the empty hallway, "don't run away, Kurt. I have to ask you something." Kurt turned slowly, sadness burning deeply in his golden eyes. It was David, his brown hair tousled and carelessly strew about, his glasses sitting comfortably on the bridge of his nose. "It's about Kris," he said hesitantly. Pain seared in Kurt's gaze, but he remained silent and still. David continued, "No one is telling me anything. Where is she? Why is she gone? How long has it been?" His questions flowed rapidly over his lips, and Kurt simply held up a three-fingered hand.

"David, why are asking me this?" he asked, his soft accent gentle and quiet. "Has someone asked you to ask me? Is it Tamiko?"

"That's why I'm asking," David whispered almost mournfully, "because Tamiko's disappeared too."

"_Was_?" Kurt exclaimed in a strained whisper.

"She left to go into town last night, because she said she needed to buy a few things, but she hasn't come back," he explained in a hurry. "No one can find her. Not even Bobby." Anxiety written into his passive face, he added, "You must tell me where she is!"

"I don't know," Kurt answered quietly. "Kris could be anywhere, and Tamiko… I have no idea." David probed him with a serious glance, and Kurt finally answered, "Kris left because she decided to run away."

Silence. David stared at him. "What does that mean?" he asked, almost angrily. His frustration and worry were growing by the minute, and he said, "Why did she leave?"

"Because she thinks that Magneto is her father!" Kurt screamed in tense exasperation. "_Aber bin ich! Ich bin!_ But I am! I am!"

"It's not true, is it?" David asked slowly, softly. Kurt turned away before he teleported with a soft _bamf_. David stared at the small trace of black smoke where he had disappeared, confusion and disbelief in his gaze. Kris had sounded so sure that she was not Erik's daughter, he thought. She seemed as though she would never believe it, because it was not true. Shaking his head, he looked away toward the end of the hall just as he heard the doors burst open downstairs. Something inside of him turned in nervous joy. Inside of him, he knew who had come through the door.

Downstairs, Kurt was standing near the doors, staring at the deep mahogany, lost in thought. He jolted in surprise when the doors burst open and Kris came running inside in a tearful frenzy. Her weeping eyes met Kurt's and she fell into his arms, burying her head into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms protectively around her, his head in her hair, tears in his own eyes. "_Gottseidank_! Thank God!" he exclaimed in his tears. "_Wo warst du? Wo?_ Where were you? Where?"

"_Sorry, Vati. Es tut mir leid,_ I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry," Kris let out, and Kurt only held her tighter in compassion.

"_Das ist OK, Phantom. Ich habe dich vermisst, _It's okay, Phantom. I missed you," he whispered, stroking her blonde hair. _"Es ist OK. Ich liebe dich._ It's okay. I love you." Kris looked up at him and nodded in understanding. After a long moment, Kurt inquired in a gasp, "_Liebst du mich?_ Well, do you love me?"

"_Ja, ich liebe dich. Du bist mein Vater, Kurt. Du bist. _Yes, I love you. You are my father, Kurt. You are," she said with a laugh. Tears hung in Kurt's eyes, and Kris reached up and gently wiped them away with a soft smile on her face. He embraced her again, and she rested her head on his shoulder. As she looked out over his shoulder, she set eyes on David, who had suddenly appeared as he came down the stairs. He stared back at her in silence, a strange light in his eyes.

She could feel a pleasant warmth in his gaze, and she smiled.

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It was dark inside her bedroom as Kris leaned against the window staring up at the cloudy night sky. "I'm telling you this, because I have to tell someone," she stated matter-of-factly. Sighing, she turned and added, "And because something inside of me says that Xavier won't know if I tell you."

David stared away from her, avoiding the gaze of her eyes. "What makes you think that?" he asked quietly, his disposition tense.

"Because," she replied, stepping toward him, "I don't know what you're thinking right now." She stared into him, expecting an explanatory reply, but he only sighed.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, somehow you are able to block your mind from me to where I can't see what you're thinking," she answered astutely. "Which makes me believe that you can do it with others."

He only laughed and shook his head. "That's absurd, Kris," he let out almost mockingly. "I can't do anything like that."

Stepping away, Kris leaned into a bedpost and whispered, "I don't care about that. That's just what I think. I don't want an answer right now. I just want you to know that I have to find Tami before…"

David stood from his chair across the room and paced to the window. He stared at the pale light of the half moon for a few moments, then asked, "How are you going to find her?" Holding out a hand, he stared deeply into the moon, and a small light started to grow in his palm.

"I don't know," she answered softly.

David then stared at the small orb of light in his hand as he said, "I can't spontaneously create light, Kris. I have to obtain it from sources of light. Like now, I simply tapped into the light of the moon and extracted a small bit of its energy." With this statement, he passed the light magically between his two hands. Kris watched as he did this, curiosity on her face. "I can harness it, make it mine. But I eventually have to return it back to the source," he continued, passing the light out of his hands and it faded away. "There, back in the moonlight."

"That's all fascinating, David, but what's your point?" Kris asked.

"We're all limited by rules and regulations," David said, "but there might be times where we can bend them." As he said this, the orb of light suddenly appeared in Kris's own hands. "But in order to do that, we have to get back to the basics. We can't overcomplicate things. If Black Tom was honest about his deal to you, then the answer to finding Tamiko is easier than you're making it. And once you've realized this," he continued, and the light in Kris's hands disappeared, "you're on the right track."

He smiled at her before walking back to his chair in thought. "So, who is the person Tom was talking about that can help you? Someone like him? Someone you know?"

And suddenly it dawned on Kris, and her eyes grew wide in realization. "David," she said, "I know exactly who he was talking about. I can't believe I didn't think of him before."

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands limp in her lap. "I'm going to have to go the city," she let out.

"So when do we leave?" David inquired enthusiastically.

"What do you mean 'we?'" she let out in surprise and indignation. "There will be no 'we.' I have to do this by myself. It might be dangerous."

He stared at her stubbornly. "Frankly, Kris, I am insulted. You don't give me nearly enough credit," he teased. "I have done a great deal of 'dangerous' work in my time."

"Fine," she conceded quickly. "But how are your acting skills?"

"What do you mean?" he asked in nervous curiosity.

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"This is ridiculous!" David let out as he stared at himself in the mirror the next morning. Kris stood behind him, observing his appearance. The man who stood in front of her was hardly recognizable. From his hips hung a pair of extremely baggy, blue cargo pants, and his feet were fitted into a pair of red and blue striped high-tops. He wore a small red t-shirt that exposed two sets of biceps, one of them decorated with a tattoo of tribal stripes. His long hair had been transformed into a dirty-blonde ponytail while his glasses were a pair of rose-tinted, half-moon lenses.

"I don't think it's that ridiculous," Kris countered with a playful smile. "That tattoo makes you look kinda sexy."

"Oh shut up!" he blurted out, hitting her over the head with pair of socks. She laughed and dodged away from him. Turning, he looked back into the mirror, displeased and annoyed. "I don't look like myself at all."

"That's the point," Kris giggled from her seat on the floor, where she had fallen in her attempt to escape him.

"I don't see you all dressed up in some sort of alter ego," he complained.

"That's because I haven't gotten dressed yet. Don't worry, you're not nearly as ridiculous as I'll be," she answered with a smile. "You just wait."

Hours later that morning, when Kris finally opened the bathroom door, David had to stifle a fit of laughter. The young woman who stood before him was almost unrecognizable. From the black miniskirt that barely brushed the tops of her thighs to the purple halter-top that fell to her naval, she was completely transformed. Her back was graced with a sunburst tattoo between her shoulder blades, and a set of four African tribal stripes encircled her right wrist. She wore a pair of trendy sunglasses over her eyes, and her hair shone out in a shiny hot-pink. She stared over at David and smiled mischievously.

"You're right," he let out, "you do look ridiculous!" At this he burst into more laughter. "Who on Earth is going to believe a set-up like that?"

With a sarcastic, tolerant smile, Kris answered, "We're going to New York City, David. There we'll find an inconspicuous club; lower Manhattan. It's called "The Firetrap." Basically, we find this club, and then I find just the fool who'll fall for this outfit. He'll then take me to one of his private rooms for a little fun, and there, I will tell him who I am and what I need."

"And just who is this 'fool?'" David asked humorously.

Kris stared at him, a smile playing on her lips. A confidant air in her voice, she answered, "His name is Caleb 'Hephaestus' Tucker."

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	7. The Flesh of the Wound

_Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Robert "Iceman" Drake, Jean Grey, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr, "Black" Tom Cassidy, Peter "Colossus" Rasputin, Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock, a.k.a. "Psylocke", and Mastermind) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet "Sidewinder" Black, Kristina "Phantom (X)" James, Tamiko "Sonic" Kaneshige, Caleb "Hephaestus" Tucker, Deanna "Medusa" Barnes, Matthew "Falcon" James, Tina Andrews "Gypsum" Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003/2004, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited._

_X-Men: The Hunt for Black Tom_

_----------------_

**Author's Note: I must first express my apologies for my "sermon" about make-up in the first section of this chapter. Meine Lieblingsfreundin, Natalie Russo, has expressed to me that she does not appreciate my spiel about where I stand on the issue of make-up products and their purpose. I had the choice to remove the "sermon" from this piece, but after very little debate, I have chosen to let it remain. I don't like to preach :cough: but I do like to express my opinions, either directly (make-up, cigarettes, etc) or indirectly (capital punishment, death penalty, etc). Furthermore, this chapter contains a few scenes that contrast one another in mood and tone, but I felt that I should let them stand together in the same chapter rather than breaking it all up. This story is drawing closer and closer to its end (about three more chapters).**

"_And so it is, just like you said it would be. Life goes easy on me most of the time. And so it is: the shorter story, no love, no glory, no hero in her sky. I can't take my eyes off of you. I can't take my eyes…. And so it is, just like you said it should be. We'll both forget the breeze most of the time. And so it is: the colder water, the blower's daughter, the pupil in denial. I can't take my eyes off of you. I can't take my eyes…Ooh, did I say that I loathe you? Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?" Damien Rice, "The Blower's Daughter"_

"_When you're weary, feeling small…When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them off. I'm on your side . . . When you're down and out. When you're on the street. When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you. I'll take your part. Oh, when darkness comes, and pain is all around, like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down . . . Sail on, silver girl. Sail on by! Your time has come to shine. All your dreams are on their way. See how they shine. Oh, if you need a friend I'm sailing right behind. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind." Simon & Garfunkel, "Bridge Over Troubled Water"

* * *

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Chapter VII: The Flesh of the Wound

The sky, grey with clouds that threatened snow or rain, was sunless as Kris threw clothes into her black gym bag that lay open on the bed in her room. Her short now vibrantly pink hair was pushed back behind her ears with a white headband, but she was now clothed in comfortable grey sweatpants and a pullover. She moved quickly about the room, taking up hairbrushes, socks, a toothbrush, or anything else she thought necessary. The last thing she picked up was a small black bag, and she stared at it with a loathsome scowl.

"What's wrong, Kris?" David asked from the far corner, where he sat on the floor, mournfully fingering his now blonde hair. He stared at her from under his eyebrows, smiling humorously at her disgruntled manner.

Throwing the bag on the bed beside the rest of her things, she let out, "I hate this stuff."

"What stuff?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

Pointing at the small black bag, she frowned and answered, "Make-up. That bag is full of make-up. I hate that stuff."

Letting out a humored laugh, he shook his head and asked, "Why? What's so bad about it?"

"It's make-up, David," she let out in an exasperated breath. "Since I was a teenager, I've believed in being 'me.' I hate the idea of covering up or accenting my features. What's the point in trying to impress people with falsely glamorous eyelids or cheekbones? If I'm trying to get a guy, I would rather him know the natural me before he commits to anything. Anyway, I haven't worn any make-up in months. I just don't care." There was a moment, as he smiled and nodded in understanding. "Is it a bad thing that I don't care what people think of how I look?"

"No," David answered. "It's honorable, I think. Few people share your point of view, but yours makes more sense."

"Thank you," she said with a giggle, grabbing and throwing the make-up into the gym bag. "Unfortunately, if I'm to be believed at this night club, I'm gonna have to wear make-up." Walking to the foot of the bed, she slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, then asked, "Well, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," he replied, coming to his feet and picking up his own backpack. He was dressed in denim jeans and navy sweater, hiding his false tattoo that he openly despised. Turning to the mirror, he ran another disappointed hand through his hair and let out a sad sigh.

"Now what's wrong with you?" Kris asked kindly with a very teasing smile.

"I want my brown hair back," he pouted quietly, his soft voice sounding almost childish. "I don't like being blonde."

"Hey, at least you're not pink," Kris retorted with a laugh, touching her own hair quaintly. He did not smile or laugh, only stared sulkily at her. "Fine," she said, turning and reaching down under the bed, "wear this." With that, she tossed him a forest green sock cap, which he slowly put on. The tips of his hair still stuck out underneath, but the majority of his hair was covered by the hat. He looked over at her and she laughed. "You're hopeless," she let out, giggling.

"Let's go," he responded, pushing her out the door into the hallway. Laughing, she turned back to him and grabbed his right hand with hers. In a moment they had dissolved into an invisible world.

"Quick," she whispered, pulling him forward toward the stairwell. As they headed silently down, a voice resounded from atop the stairs.

"Hey, where are you going?" By the voice, Kris knew immediately that it was Jet who had called out.

"_Scheiße!_" Kris let out, moving more quickly down the stairs. But Jet was upon her, and he grabbed her invisible shoulders and pushed her firmly back against the wall.

"Kris, your invisibility doesn't work with me, remember," Jet said with an almost teasing air. Sighing, Kris stood there, her hand holding David's tightly. She knew that Jet could sense her heat with the snake-like detectors in his sinus cavities, but she had not counted on approaching him in the hallway. "Where are you going?" he asked again, his voice letting out a hiss of curiosity.

Concentrating hard, she sighed and dissolved into visibility, but David remained invisible beside her. Jet's eyes danced upon her face as he took in the color of her hair, and suddenly he burst into a fit of laughter. "What is this?" he asked through his laughter, touching strands of her hair.

"I thought of trying something new, okay!" she exclaimed in frustration. "Now, may I please go?"

"Wait a minute," Jet suddenly said, a realization shining in his violet eyes. "What are you up to?" He stared into her blue eyes, and she rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat.

* * *

Inside a hotel room outside the city, Jet leaned against the windowsill, his wavy hair unkempt about his forehead. Sighing, he turned to David, who sat on the bed, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail, fully dressed for the evening's upcoming events. "How in the world did she talk you into this?" Jet inquired, disbelieving.

Looking at his hands, ashamed, David said, "Actually, I had to talk her into letting me come along. But that was before I knew what she was going to do." There was moment as David looked at Jet, then he added, "And you seem to have no problem with coming along, and you knew what we were going to do before you committed to anything."

Chuckling, Jet shook his head and stared down at his own outfit, a set of black leather pants, silvery white collared shirt and matching black leather jacket. "I must admit that you look far more ridiculous than I do," he stated, scanning David's ensemble for the tenth time. "Honestly, you look like you belong at a skate-park, not a club."

"Tell her that!" David let out, gesturing to the wall that divided the two hotel rooms, his exasperation evident. "She seems to think that I could walk in there dressed like this."

Puzzled thought written into his furrowed brow, Jet stared at David for a long moment before he finally stated, "Maybe I can fix this." Walking to his own bag, Jet rustled through it, saying, "Unlike Kris, I was born with some sense of fashion. She, on the other hand, comes from a family of farmers where well-dressed means a pair of overalls and plaid oxfords." They laughed together, and then Jet pulled out a pair of white dress slacks. He tossed them to David, then pulled out a royal blue, silk oxford shirt. Smiling mischievously, Jet tossed it gingerly over to David who stared at it quizzically. "Trust me, David. It will look better than what you've got. Then again… Anything will look better than what you got."

Glancing at his friend warningly, David sighed and nodded. "But what about my hair?" Jet stared at it, taking in the blonde look.

"Actually, it's not that bad. It will work for tonight," Jet said decisively. "At least Kris got that part right. But those glasses won't do. No… Try these." With that, he passed him a pair of blue tinted, wire-framed glasses.

"Thanks," David said as he disappeared into the bathroom to change.

* * *

Tamiko stared out from bruised brown eyes to look loathsomely at the willowy redhead that leaned against the wall, a terrible smile upon her face. "Why the mean look, Sonic?" Deanna asked out, her voice echoing over the sterile walls. "Do you need something? Water, maybe?"

Glaring at her, Tamiko scornfully spit bloody saliva out onto the floor. With a look of utter disgust, Deanna walked slowly toward the bound prisoner and said, "You have a nasty temper."

Tamiko only grimaced, looked up at her and then muttered, "Screw you." Deanna sent her a reproachful glance, and Tamiko winced as a sharp pain stabbed at her insides. She only shook it off with a spiteful laugh and said, "It must suck, not being able to look into the eyes of your lover without hurting him."

"What of it?" Deanna nearly shouted in frustration.

"I'm just saying, if I had that problem, I would go and shoot myself," Tamiko continued in an undertone of bitter hatred. "Have you ever looked at yourself like that in the mirror?" At this question, once asked, Tamiko burst into hysterical laughter. "I can only imagine…" she muttered between snickers.

Her temper flashing in her golden eyes, Deanna opened her mouth and spit out a thin snake, only a few inches in length, but long fangs flashing. The snake aimed for Tamiko, but as it was nearing the sneering prisoner, Deanna lunged forward and snatched it out of the air. The snake writhed in her hands as she held it only inches from Tamiko's face. Tamiko only stared at it, unimpressed, uncaring.

"You know what happens if one of my snakes bites you?" Deanna seethed behind clenched teeth. "You know your friend Sidewinder?"

"What, Jet? I guess I know him. I only went to school with him for four years," Tamiko let out sarcastically with apathetic clumsiness. Deanna rolled her eyes, exasperated. The snake in her hands writhed for a few moments, silently, before falling limp and dead in her hands. Throwing it to the floor, she pursed her lips and began to speak.

"They don't live long, but when alive, they're deadly. These snakes are only just slightly less venomous than Sidewinder. Their venom is so toxic it will kill you within minutes, but the pain is so great, it feels like hours. It first affects the nervous system, then slowly starts shutting down your major organs… one… by… one. During this agonizing process, the lungs are slowly filling with fluid, until you can barely breath, then…" Deanna stopped, staring warningly into Tamiko's eyes. "Sad thing is, there is no real anti-serum for it. So, once you've been bitten, there is nothing you can do about it."

"Unless you're Jet of course, right?" Tamiko muttered in thought. "His body supplies it's own chemical that counters the effects of his own venom, and since it's so powerful, no other snake venom can hurt him." With this comment, Tamiko smiled sarcastically and said, "Doesn't that make you happy?"

"Shut the hell up!" Deanna muttered, turning away.

"Hey, you know what," Tamiko called after her in insane laughter, but Deanna kept walking. "It doesn't work on Phantom either. Her body produces its own anti-serum as well. Ha!"

Turning on her, Deanna stared hard into her and shouted, "I said shut up!" Her golden eyes burned as fiery pain seized at Tamiko's insides. The young X-Man let out a shriek of agony as Deanna continued to wreak terrible torture on her.

"Medusa!" a man shouted suddenly. The Irish accent revealed that it was Tom Cassidy, and Deanna quickly turned away. As her eyes fell out of Tamiko's gaze, the pain disappeared instantly. Black Tom stared at Tamiko from the other side of the room, where he had entered just moments before.

Tamiko only stared back, hatred deep in her eyes as she leaned forward against the bindings that held her to the chair. Her eyes were wet with hot tears and shot with blood. "Tom, you need to keep this Gorgon slut locked up. She's got a really fiery temper," she seethed. "I'd watch your back if I were you. She might turn her snake-spitting ass against you one of these days."

Tom laughed, nodding. "I'll remember that, Sonic," he muttered. Then, ushering Deanna out of the room, he exited and shut the door.

* * *

Bright lights of red, blue and green moved interchangeably in the otherwise dark club. A mingled smell of sweat and smoke hung in the haze of half-light as the throbbing of the bass beat out a rhythm that shook the smooth floor. Throngs of people wove in and out of sensual and inebriated dance.

Strutting to the bar, her arm laced in David's, Kris sneered mischievously as she scanned around for familiar faces. Leaning purposefully across the glass counter, she carelessly ordered a shot of Jack Daniel's. Grinning at David's curious expression, she downed the shot with expressive gusto.

As she continued her façade, all the while staying aware for a known face, Jet moved up beside her and leaned close into her ear, whispering, "He's here. Near the back wall on the sofa." Eyeing the far corner, Kris set inconspicuous eyes on a brilliantly red-haired man wearing a burgundy Armani suit and low ponytail. He was laughing uproariously as two gentlemen reclined with him, glasses of champagne in their hands, and paid harlots on each arm. As she watched their active conversation, the red-haired man lit a cigarette and put it to his lips. He breathed it deeply, the music pounding in their ears. He stared down a young woman who was approaching him. He dabbled in flirty conversation with her, all the while his eyes scanning her figure as she stood before him.

Falling out of David's arm, Kris looked seriously at him and said, "Here I go." Her words rose unheard, for the music drowned out her voice. With a sigh, he understood and nodded, taking a seat at the bar next to Jet, who already had a drink in his hand.

Weaving in and out among the people, Kris approached the back wall, her eyes set behind rosy sunglasses. As she drew closer, a bubbly giddiness fluttered in her stomach, and she grinned in expectation. _Here I go_, she thought, emerging from the throng of dancers, in clear view of the men on the sofa. Her stiletto heels leading her forward, she paused near to them and rested her eyes on the redhead, secret anxiety tightening in her knees.

After long moments, the man caught sight of her, and scanned her curiously. With a daring grin, Kris openly invited him to come to her. He remained seated, an amused and eager smile on his lips, and he motioned for her to come to him. Kris only persisted on her own extended invitation, and he finally stood and excused himself from his company. Striding smoothly to her, he drew close to her, and she leaned in to his ear and whispered, "Your music sucks." Her voice rose and fell in the singsong sound of an authentic Irish accent.

He only laughed, his grey eyes sparkling and smoothly replied, "Perhaps I can find something more to your taste."

"Perhaps," she whispered, her hands playing near his neck. In a short moment, his hands were at the waist, his touch smooth against the skin of her stomach. Goosebumps tickled her neck as he pulled her closer to him, tightly. Though her nervousness escalated, she continued her charade and reacted positively to his advances.

His grey eyes glistened as she softly drew his mouth to hers. They kissed long and lustfully, eyes clamped shut. David, watching from a distance, stirred in his seat, and Jet only looked at him, observing his friend's agitation.

Staring at Kris's eager demeanor, the redhead whispered, taken aback, "Who are you?" Avoiding an answer, Kris drew him into another kiss, at which he gasped, mystified. Staring back into her eyes, he took her hands and said, "Follow me." At this, he led her through a door, locking it behind him.

This new room was dimly lit with low lights. In the back corner there was a wide bed, and Kris glanced at it, urgent fear clamping down in her throat. As he turned back to her from locking the door, she made to speak, but he only advanced on her, caressing her lustfully. Inside of her, she felt compelled to respond likewise, but after minutes of fighting her own inner battle, she drew back and stared long into him.

He looked back at her, observing her. "I know you," he whispered. "I know that kiss." She only continued to look into him, silently behind rose-tinted sunglasses. After long minutes, he whispered, "Phantom?"

Smiling, Kris slid the sunglasses down from her face, staring out at him with blue-green eyes, and responded, "Boo."

* * *

"How long has it been, Caleb?" Kris asked from across the room as she drank down a glass of water. "Three years?"

"That's right," Caleb answered from his seat on the bed, staring over at her in disbelief. "Only, you're not really German, are you?"

Shaking her pink head, she let out, "Nope, not really. I'm an American like you."

Laughing, Caleb ran a hand through his red hair and said, "Not German. Certainly not Irish…. What a little liar you are!" He exclaimed this with a heavy laugh, standing and pacing about in surprise.

"I'm not a liar. You just assumed," she spat teasingly, her arms now crossed over her chest. "I spoke better German than you did anyway. I knew you weren't native from the start."

"The next thing you'll be telling me is that you're a telepath or something!" he exclaimed in a fit of sarcasm. She only stared at him seriously, and he shook his head in disbelief. "No way! You're a telepath, aren't you?"

"Yeah," she whispered with a grin.

He laughed in utter disbelief, turning away for a moment before finally asking, "So, why are you here? Do you want to get back together or something?"

"After _that_ break-up! Are you kidding me?" she let out, almost as disbelieving as he did.

"As I recall, you didn't want to have anything to do with me," he responded.

Her mouth gaping open, Kris retorted, "That was only after you disappeared for a month without telling me anything about where you were going, or what you were doing. Then you came back, expecting me to be totally fine with your leave of absence, as though nothing had happened."

"What's the big deal, Phantom? I had some business to take care of in the States."

"You could have at least told me you were leaving," she answered, genuinely upset with him. She turned to the room's mini-bar and poured herself another glass of water.

Watching her silently, he finally nodded and said, "You're right. And I'm sorry." She left her back to him and drank the water, refusing to respond to him. "Anyway, why are you here, Phantom?"

She took a long time to answer him, continuing to drink and stare intently at the counter. "I need your help, Caleb. A friend of mine—Sonic—she was kidnapped and is being held by—"

"Black Tom?" Caleb interrupted, finishing her sentence. "I know. I heard about this Sonic girl from a contact of mine. He told me about this yesterday, while we were making an exchange and let it slip in side conversation. She's a friend of yours?" Kris slowly nodded. "I thought it strange that Black Tom is taking X-Men hostage. It doesn't make sense."

"It does," Kris interjected. "He some how found out that Sonic and I are best friends. He wants me, not her. But he's using her to get to me."

"What's he want with you?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks that I am the terrorist I'm proclaimed to be. Maybe he wants to work with me or something."

"That wouldn't make sense, Phantom," Caleb let out. "Almost every mutant knows that you're not a terrorist. Even the Brotherhood knows that you are a loner, you don't belong to any group."

"I know, but Cassidy wants me for some reason. But right now, all I care about is getting Sonic back. You've gotta help me, Caleb. Do you know where she is?"

Her desperation was evident as she paced to him, her hands folded at her chest, pleading for his help. "Yes," he whispered, taking her hands into his, nodding. "I know where she is." Tears sparkled in her eyes when he smiled and said, "And I'll get her back."

"Thank you," she let out in a whisper, a tear streaking down her cheek. Carefully, he reached up and wiped it away with long and gentle fingers.

"If you come back here tomorrow, in the morning, we'll organize this together. I'll get us some help too. Is anyone with you?" he questioned.

Nodding, she replied, "Two men. Blacklight and Sidewinder. Do you know who they are?" He stared back at her, nodding in near astonishment.

"I'm surprised _you_ know Blacklight," he stated. "I don't know him personally, but his…reputation…proceeds him." Stepping away in thought, he shook his head and added, "Bring them with you tomorrow. We could use their help."

* * *

The corridor was dark and silent as Kris, Jet, and David made their way to their hotel rooms. "I can't wait to get this color out of my hair," Kris let out in a laugh. Jet chuckled alongside her, running a hand through his own black hair. "And I'm sure David's even more excited than I am, right?"

She looked over to him, only to find his demeanor resolute and silent. He glanced at her, his eyes cold and stern. "What's wrong, David?" Jet inquired, slipping the keycard through the lock in the door. It clicked and opened.

David only looked away and walked purposefully inside. Kris watched him, leaning against the door to her room. Looking into Jet's snake eyes, she asked in a whisper, "What's the matter with him?"

Taking Kris by the arm, Jet led her away from the door and whispered an answer, "Kris, I think he's upset by what happened tonight."

"What do you mean? We got help. Caleb's gonna help us, and we're gonna get Tamiko back." As she reasoned aloud, Jet silenced her with a hand to her lips.

"No, Kris. I think he's upset because you and Caleb, well you know, basically made-out right in front of us. Did you even know what you were doing?"

Searching for words, her eyes roving, she replied, "But it wasn't real. I was acting. He knows that."

"And it doesn't help that you told us on the subway that you and Caleb have a history together," Jet let out in exasperation. "Whether or not you want to realize it, David has feelings for you, and no doubt, you have some for him. Though, it's hard to tell, considering you never think before you open that bloody trap of yours."

"That has nothing to do with anything, Jet. I was acting. And, it's not like David and I are dating or together or anything, all right!"

"The way you've been acting with him lately, you might as well be!" Jet seethed, his defense of his friend and scolding of another flustering Kris. "He would do anything for you, Kris! And you don't seem to notice that. He sat down and watched you throw yourself all over some stranger. Think about how angry that would make anyone. He sat there and did nothing while you paraded around in your little costume. He didn't have to be there, but he still went with you. Remember that, Kris! He'll do anything for you!"

"I don't have time to listen to this," she let out in bordering anger. "I need to get to sleep." She went to her door and unlocked it. Opening it, she stopped halfway inside her room and said, "Tell David that it was an act, okay. I didn't mean any of it. Tell him that. He'll listen to you."

Later, as she crawled into bed, her hair wet and blonde again, she could hear muffled conversation on the other side of the wall. Pausing, she listened, and stretched out her mind.

"David, are you angry with Kris?"

"No, Jet. No. I'm just tired, all right."

"Then what's wrong, mate?"

"Don't worry about me, Jet. I'm fine. It has nothing to do with Kris, okay."

Backing away from their conversation, Kris nodded her head and pulled the covers over her. "See, I knew it was nothing," she muttered aloud to herself. But as she turned out the light and closed her eyes, she wondered, and a pang of guilt stabbed in her stomach.

* * *

"The game is over Tom," Sean Cassidy shouted out loudly to his hated cousin as he stepped out from the group, his brown leather jacket rustling in the wind. His wispy blonde hair blew about his face, his voice hoarse as he tried to raise it above the sirens as the police cars and the fire brigade drew closer.

Pouting out his lip childishly, Tom mumbled, "Oh, has poor little Sean lost his ickle wittle voice?" Grimacing, Sean took a step forward in a typical challenge, but Kris touched his shoulder, keeping him back. Laughing, Tom shouted, "You should have never wasted your time saving your precious little X-Men. Look where it has gotten you! You don't even have the ability to use your powers."

A roar of anger rose among the X-Men standing behind them, and in a sudden burst of emotion and fury, the battle started. Sean made a wild run at Tom, his voice screeching louder than anything they could imagine. Clutching at her hair, Kris's face contorted in agony just as the brawl began. Deanna leapt out from Tom's group and became Medusa, her golden eyes burning in wild fury. Peter, his tanned body now coated in a silver armor, became Colossus, David was throwing bursts of light, and Betsy, her long violet hair flowing in the currents of air, became Psylocke, instigating her powers in several psy-thrusts and knives.

A world of fire and ice enveloped Kris inside and outside as she stared out across the frozen highway, the cloudy sky reflecting dully in her blue eyes. His coarse demeanor stared back into her, and she shivered. She knew what she had to do.

Striding forward amid the mayhem of her fellow X-Men fighting around her, Kris concentrated hard on the burning wind that flowed from Black Tom as he watched her, taunting, from a short distance. She could hear him laughing, and the screams of battle about her deadened.

The world spun rapidly around her. Fiery pain stabbed in her temples, and she fell to her knees, seething in anguish. The hot pain resounded in her mind, and she put her forehead to the pavement. The world echoed hollowly around her, but all she could feel was the pain, that deep, stabbing, burning fire inside her head. She fought to move, but she could not; the pain held her to the ground. She opened her mouth to yell, but no sound came out. All she knew was pain.

The sky went spinning sideways as someone stumbled roughly into her. Rolling, she landed upon her back, her blood shot eyes searching the grey dome of sky. It took her long minutes to finally realize that the pain in her head had lessened, and that someone lay facedown on the road beside her, struggling in agony. Fighting the pain that burnt in her eyes, she rolled over, slowly, and looked at his tousled brown hair. He writhed in pain, his limbs growing weaker and weaker, groaning terribly inside his throat. Moments passed before Kris realized who it was lying beside her. It took even longer to notice the blood pouring from a wound on his back.

"David!" she rasped in sudden realization. The pain increased, but she ignored it as she pulled herself to him. Tearing at his clothes, she exposed the wound in his back. Clearing away the crimson blood with shaking fingers, she saw the two parallel bite marks. "Oh God!" she cried out, tears burning her eyes. Looking to the sky, she sought consolation, but nothing came. Grabbing his shoulders, she turned him over and pulled him into her own trembling arms. He was convulsing in agonizing torture, his face pale white, bloodless.

He stared up into her eyes, his own dull and heavy. "K-Kris?" he whispered, struggling in her arms, his breath appearing in a weak cloud of white between them.

"It's okay, David," she whispered, tears spilling down her face. "I'm here," she consoled him with a hand through his hair. His purpling lips moved to speak, but his jaw only shook in trembling, pained silence. His chest heaved for air, but his lungs, fluid filled, would not cooperate. "Shh…" she comforted him softly, leaning close to him. "I'm gonna make you better, okay…" His eyes began to roll back, but she shook him and said, "Stay with me, David. Look at me. Keep your eyes on me, okay." He focused on her a moment as she searched for something to say, to do.

His body was limp in her hold, every ounce of energy dissipated into nothing. But he stared into her, his eyes unseeing. "Keep breathing," she instructed in a whisper. "You aren't leaving me."

"It hurts…" he gasped in a nearly inaudible breath. The muscles in his face tensed in agony, and he shut his eyes, tears running down his own pale cheeks.

Pulling him close to her, she whispered, "It's okay. The pain will pass." She rocked him a moment, her head against his, eyes shut, his blood on her hands and clothes. Her salty tears mixed with his hair as she held him tight. "The pain will pass…" she whispered again, tasting her tears as they rolled over her lips.

Rocking him there, silence reigned. After long, mournful moments, David's voice whispered quiet words into her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. When his words passed through her, she held him tighter, her weeping intensified. He rested his head onto her shoulder, and slowly, softly his breathing ceased.

Silence…

Then, Kris opened her tear-filled eyes and looked down into his peaceful face. She brushed his hair back from his cheeks with bloodied fingers and suddenly burst into a wailing sob. "No!" she cried, looking to the clouded sky. And frantically, she turned him in her arms and dug her fingertips into the snakebite in his back, tearing the flesh of the wound. Putting her mouth to it, she desperately fought to withdraw the poison, but his blood no longer circulated through the wound. "No," she wept, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her head against his limp body, rocking him as she sat there on the pavement. "God…" she whispered. "I'm sorry, David. I'm sorry!" She screamed in bitter agony.

A cold wind enveloped her and stung at her cheeks, freezing the salty tears on her eyelashes.

* * *

Gentle hands shook her weeping form awake. She lay facedown, crying bitter tears into her pillow as her hands clenched the sheets about her. "Wake up, Kris," a distant voice echoed from the blackness above. She struggled in the blankets before she pulled herself back into her hotel room. There, she froze and quickly turned, staring around. Her eyes came to rest on a familiar face above her, illuminated in the pale moonlight.

"David!" she cried, jolting up and wrapping her arms around him. He sat down with her and put his arms around her waist, soothing her with strong hands. She buried her head in his shoulder, exclaiming, "Thank you, God, thank you, God…"

"What is it?" he whispered softly.

She took in the scent of his clothes as she paused in thought, calming her tears. After a long moment and a deep breath, she fell out of his embrace and said, "Nothing, nothing… I'm all right. I just had a bad dream, that's all." Fiddling with the blankets, she watched her fingers as he observed her, concerned. She let out a disregarding laugh and shrugged, adding, "It's hard to believe that I'm twenty-five years old and still afraid of the dark."

"Kris, it feels a bit more serious than that," David let out quietly, his voice solemn, his eyes fixed on her. She glanced up at him, but quickly looked away. Running a hand through her hair, she nervously laughed and shook her head. "The way you screamed…" he whispered, looking down at his hands, "the moment I heard you crying, I thought—I thought that something terrible had happened to you." His hand found hers, and he squeezed it gently, earnestly. Looking into her eyes, he whispered, "I've never been that frightened. The thought of something happening to you, I… I couldn't bear to imagine…" He trailed off with a shake of his head. "Even when I was in that execution chamber, I wasn't as afraid as just then," he added softly, looking away out the window by the bedside.

Something in her stomach tightened, and she gripped his hand tightly. She tried to speak, but words failed her. He looked back into her eyes and saw tears forming there. Concerned, he asked, "What is it?"

Slowly shaking her head, Kris muttered, "You can't go with me, David. I won't let you." A tear escaped her eyes, and he gently brushed it away, his brow knitted in confusion. "You have to go back to the mansion…"

"No," he said decisively, shaking his head. "No, I'm staying here. I'm going to help you."

"No you're not!" she nearly shouted in such honest urgency that he froze and stared into her, his blue eyes searching her gaze. Long minutes passed in silence as he read her eyes. Sighing, he nodded his head, his hair falling into his eyes. He seemed to understand something inside of her gaze, and Kris felt that he knew what she had seen. "I won't let you get hurt, David…" she whispered in tears. "I won't…" Shivering, she whispered, "I can't lose you."

"Shh…" he comforted her, pulling her into his arms. She leaned into his shoulder, her eyes closed. "Listen to me," he stated quietly, but firmly. Face to face now, his hands in her hair, he looked her directly in the eyes, and said, "You aren't going to lose me. I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand?" She nodded, and he stated, "I'm always going to be here." His voice was so sure and firm, and as he fell silent, she felt a warm solace that she had not known for weeks.

"So… you're not angry with me?" she whispered hesitantly, staring earnestly into his eyes, reflecting a sea of emotion and tears.

Leaning close to her, he let out a soft laugh and shook his head, saying, "No… I'm not angry with you." He smiled warmly, and she let out a relieved giggle. They stared into each other, face to face, for passing minutes of silence. His breath was warm on her cheeks, but she felt her hands trembling as they lay folded in her lap. He leant his forehead against hers, resting there, eyes closed. Reaching up, she brushed the tips of his hair with her fingers, eyes shut, waiting.

With sure hands, he pulled her closer to him, his mouth barely touching her cheek as he whispered, "I'm not leaving…" Then, slowly but surely, he guided her down to her pillows and pulled the covers over her. She softly touched his fingertips as he looked down at her gently, his eyes sparkling. "Sleep now…" he whispered delicately.

She looked at him. He was staring out the window at the moon, then he looked down to her wide, tired eyes and smiled. Running a hand through her hair, he bid her goodnight and silently left the room.


	8. A Lonely Rose

_Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Robert "Iceman" Drake, Jean Grey, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr, "Black" Tom Cassidy, Peter "Colossus" Rasputin, Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock, a.k.a. "Psylocke", and Mastermind) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet "Sidewinder" Black, Kristina "Phantom (X)" James, Tamiko "Sonic" Kaneshige, Caleb "Hephaestus" Tucker, Deanna "Medusa" Barnes, Matthew "Falcon" James, Tina Andrews "Gypsum" Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003/2004/2005, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited._

_X-Men: The Hunt for Black Tom_

"_Forgive me, if now I wear the face of worry. This time alone would never cause any doubt. But I've been cold too long. Such a strange time to find myself coming down as the rain, with all these holes, my love, to fill up from the middle. This storm could stay all night now. So can you stay until we close our eyes? Till your dreams hold mine? Just stay until we know we tried one more time. 'Cause laughing lovers can overcome their closest demons. And they'll go on and they won't let go. They saw something that they know has never come so close. Can it stay here for us, for now? Can it stay till we know ourselves? I'm torn as I tell. You're the story that I know and fell from. I'm so far into your story; I don't know why we think we're in control, when we lie between the lines. We'll find a line to follow. It's got to show real soon, or we'll never reach this high. We climb a little further. 'Cause there's nothing we can't get around together. Further gets colder until nothing was all that I saw around. So we stay until the ground that we can't come down from splits us away. Maybe stars know why we fall. I just wish they were thinking out loud. I could wish all night." Finger Eleven, "Thousand Mile Wish"_

* * *

Chapter VIII: A Lonely Rose

His grey eyes shone out brilliantly from behind a pair of thin wire-frame glasses that accented his freckled nose. Leaning against a white metal post, he dug his hands into the pockets of his brown wool trench-coat and stared out across the empty tracks of the subway underground. A massive crowd of humans pushed and shoved one another down the stairs below. Removing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he withdrew one, put it to his lips, and blew a soft breath of air into it. The tip quickly ignited in its own soft glow. Taking the smoke in with a long breath, Caleb smiled snidely as he blew the warm smoke out through his nostrils. A small tug at the necklace around his neck made him let out a relieved chuckle under his breath.

There was a moment where Caleb waited while humans brushed roughly past him only to melt into the colorless crowd below. "Haven't I told you that smoking is a filthy habit?" a cool, smooth voice stated from behind. "Or do you need the fire in your lungs in order to feel alive, Hephaestus?"

Letting out a calm, knowing snicker, Caleb turned and looked into a pair of matching, cool grey eyes. A small flame flickered about his thin fingertips then disappeared. "I was getting nervous that you weren't going to show up," he let out in a strong voice.

"Oh no, I always keep my word… and my arrangements," the man replied with relaxed ease as he cast his eyes around the crowded station. Looking up to the stairs that led to the frozen, bustling street, he said, "Shall we?" And the two men proceeded up the stairs as the train screeched to a halt on the tracks behind them.

The doors to the cars opened quickly, a gust of steam meeting Jet, Kris, and David as they stepped out onto the platform with the rest of the throng from inside the train.

Casting her eyes up to the stairs and out into the frozen, bustling street, Kris sighed and glanced at Jet, inquiring, "Should we go together, or separate?"

Pulling his black coat closer to him, Jet stared out from the under loose strands of his raven hair and said, "Together. I don't trust Caleb enough to let you go alone. I need you where I can keep my eye on you. What do you think, David?"

David, disguised by the same hunter-green sock-cap that covered his hair, only darted his brilliant eyes to Kris before nodding in agreement. Inclining to them, Kris proceeded toward the stairs, the two men in tow.

Glancing nervously around at the faceless crowd, David reached forward and touched Kris's elbow. She looked back at him as they walked, and slowed in step to match his. Next to her, David continued to walk as he whispered anxiously into her ear, "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" she whispered in return. "What's wrong, David?"

He watched his feet as they moved, and shook his head. There was something in the air that had pulled at him, and he stared around, unsure of what he felt. After long moments, he finally pursed his lips and replied, "N-nothing. I must be imagining things."

Nothing else was spoken until the reached the alley behind the club. They stood at the back doorway, waiting patiently as Jet glanced down at his watch. "He said he was going to be at the door at eight? It's 8:10, where is he?"

"Calm down, Sidewinder," Caleb's smooth voice stated as he opened the door. "I'm rarely ever late, but this morning I had to deal with some business." Motioning to them, he waved them inside, greeting each one of them in turn.

Leading them into an inner room, Caleb said, "Sidewinder and Blacklight, you two need to stay here. I'm taking Phantom upstairs to sort out the basics."

"What?" Jet inquired defensively. "No, we're staying with you at all times."

"Keep in mind, Sidewinder, that we're not in a courtroom. You can't make objections here. No, I asked you all to come along, and I shall use your assistance when I feel compelled. But for now, I only need Phantom." Caleb said all this with a bite of contempt. As he closed the door he said, "Make yourselves comfortable. There's drinks in the bar in the far corner." With that, he closed and locked the door.

Leading Kris away and toward the stairwell, he placed his hand on the small of her back and removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket with the opposite hand. Holding the pack out to her, he inquired, "Want one?"

Frowning, Kris said, "I don't smoke, Caleb. You know that."

"Yeah, I know. I was just joking."

Kris let out a half smile, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "Caleb, why are we coming up here alone? Seriously." Suddenly, Caleb came to a stop, staring intently at Kris.

"Because, I couldn't have them with us for this part. Phantom, this is going to be more difficult than I originally thought," Caleb whispered as they stood in the hallway outside a door. "Tom's got that place riddled with security. Even if you're invisible, he's got motion and heat sensors packed into every crevice. I surely have no reason or excuse to get in where he's keeping Sonic. Tom doesn't trust me that well."

"What about Blacklight?" Kris asked in desperation. "He can dissolve into shadow and get to her."

With a shake of his head, Caleb said, "I considered that. But Blacklight wouldn't be able to get her out. Tom's got Sonic in a sound-proof holding cell, so she can't get out on her own, and she very well can't walk out the door."

"If only we had someway to blot out security just long enough to get her out of the room," Kris muttered as an aside to herself.

"You're right," he replied. "Which is why I asked for a little help. I needed someone Tom trusts, someone I trust, someone who can get to Sonic, someone who can disrupt the security connections."

"But who- -" but Kris never finished her question, and she did not need an answer. Because without even seeing, she knew, because she felt him. She felt the warmth spread over her, making her skin tingle. It was strangely both comfortable and disquieting at the same time. The feeling she felt could not be forgotten. It was the way she had not felt for nearly ten years. His hanging aura, which she so easily felt in close proximity, continued to swirl about her.

Each person gave off a different aura, disposition, which Kris could feel in temperature, pressure, and her own bodily instincts. She knew Kurt by a gentle cool wind that tended to embrace her. Jet tended to have a sad disposition that was calm but angry at the same time. Tamiko was soft and light, a breeze full of laughter and hidden smiles. Every person was different, but she recognized them all, and never forgot any of them.

Her eyes grew wide, and she shivered. "Caleb?" she stuttered, anxiety and fear shaking her voice. He comforted her with a hand on her shoulder as he led her into the room. Opening the door, he brought her slowly inside. She froze in the doorway when her eyes locked with the cool greys of the man sitting across the room.

They stared into each other for long minutes, her grey-blue eyes reflecting his in strange familiarity. A silent exchange of emotion passed unseen between them, and was suddenly broken when Kris looked away.

"It's been a long time, Kristina," Erik Lehnsherr stated softly, a gentle smile playing upon his face.

Glancing angrily back at him, she whispered, "Pity it couldn't last…"

Erik chuckled and shook his grey head. "And you haven't changed." Reaching across the table at which he was seated, he picked up and brought a glass of wine to his lips. As he drank of it, Kris felt his pleasure escalate like electricity around them, and her heart thudded against her ribcage. "And how are you?" he inquired honestly. "I understand your body adapted to the venom in your bloodstream."

"Yeah, no thanks to you!" Kris spat, staring at him, unmoving. Erik moved his mouth to speak, but Kris abruptly interrupted him, saying, "I have no intention to speak with you, Magneto. You are of no more good to me, as I am to you. You have no need or desire to know how or who I am. So shut your mouth and leave me alone." Her anger was boiling just below her skin, and she did not care to conceal it.

Shifting uneasily, Caleb said, "I asked for Erik's help because he's the only one I know that can do this."

"We don't need his help," Kris nearly shouted in bridging animosity.

"Yes, you do," Erik raised his voice to match her own. Kris shot daggers at him in her icy stare. "I have gained Cassidy's trust in recent weeks."

Seething, Kris whispered in contempt, "Doing what, Magneto? Kidnapping Sonic yourself, maybe."

"Of course not," he countered with an offended shake of his head. "What good would that be to me?"

"I don't know," Kris let out sarcastically. "But, it gives you a pretty damned good excuse to confront me, doesn't it? You know, set up this whole scheme of kidnapping my friends just to get at me, so that I contribute as a lab-rat to another one of your damn experiments." Her rage bordered on fury as memories of past events flashed between their locked eyes.

His stare was grinding, and Kris reflected it in exact intensity. He read her eyes, and his flashed as something unspoken passed between them, and suddenly, his gaze softened, and he whispered, "That was a long time ago, Kristina. But there was a reason I chose you."

"Don't start! I don't want to hear it!" she screamed, pointing at him in penned-up frustration and tears.

"Kris!" He shouted shortly, startling her to freeze. Leaning forward onto the tabletop, he grew in quiet intensity and stated, "I am here to _help_ you. Please, let me help you."

* * *

"All right," Caleb said, downing his shot of scotch, "here's what's gonna happen." Kris, who sat across from him with her own glass of wine, stared intently into the tabletop. Erik watched her in silence as Caleb continued. "Erik, you're going to go to Cassidy's compound with Blacklight, who will remain in shadow form, there only to help you if things go sour. During this time, Phantom and Sidewinder are going to go back to Xavier's mansion to alleviate any suspicion to their involvement in a rescue attempt. Then, I will meet Erik and Blacklight at our rendezvous point just outside of Cincinnati, where I have a second club. From there, Blacklight will depart back to New York with Erik, where they'll meet with Sidewinder and wait here for my return. I will take Sonic from Cincinnati to Buffalo, where Phantom will meet me. From there, Phantom will take Sonic back to the mansion, and I will return here to give Erik, Sidewinder and Blacklight the thumbs-up." Gazing between them, Caleb leaned further forward on the table, asking, "Have I left anything out? We've worked out all the compromises? Does this sound right?" 

Leaning back in her chair, Kris inquired, "I don't understand why Blacklight can't just bring Sonic straight from Cassidy to the mansion. Why do we have to have so many interceptions and rendezvous?"

Shaking his head, Caleb replied, "Phantom, I've explained this. The more we intercept and trade off, the less likely it is that Cassidy can track us."

"Okay," she finally conceded, taking a sip of her glass. Erik then nodded to show his consent.

"Great, I'm going to go and brief Sidewinder and Blacklight on the plan," Caleb let out, pacing to the door. "Then, we'll get started." As the door closed behind Caleb upon his departure, Erik gazed thoughtfully at Kris, a discerning shadow in his gaze.

She glanced at him out of the side of her eyes, adjusting nervously in her seat as she turned the glass of wine round upon the tabletop. He knew that she felt his curious gaze, and he continued to watch her as she fidgeted under his stare. "What do you want?" she inquired finally out of exasperation.

Shrugging, he looked away for a moment and then moved back to watch her. His grey eyes sparkled in a mingle of curiosity and strange affection. "Nothing," he replied placidly.

"Then why are you staring at me?" she snapped defensively, not looking at him, only staring intricately into the colors on the glass.

"Oh, I was only pondering the lovely coincidence of your meeting David," he stated ever so gently and thoughtfully. "It's most unexpected. I could not have foreseen such a relationship possible."

"What is that supposed to mean, Magneto?" Her inquiry was sharp and cold, but a curiosity dwelt inside of her eyes that could not be masked by the coarseness of her demeanor. She had a strong desire to discover Erik's meaning, but she refused to reveal herself as so. A stronger desire kept her icy, and she indulged that want without recourse or remorse. Whatever he had to say about David, she would hear, only with the cruelest, apathetic ear.

Erik observed her crude manner, but saw the hint of curiosity in her eyes. Grinning in only the slightest manner, he sipped at his own wine and said loosely, "I know people, Kristina. David is too placid and passive while you are certainly very impulsive and shameless."

"So?"

"So, you face the world with either a smile or a scowl, a song or a shout. When you spy an opportunity to act as you please, you never disregard it. You dance in public fountains, sing loudly in shopping malls, hold open doors for burdened mothers and the next moment shout at an oncoming car. You're heedless, and don't really mind what others think."

"Why should I mind?" Kris interrupted in an honest, but calm defense. "Most of those people in the vicinity will never see me again. Besides, I'm hardly acting out of selfish anger or hostility. I'm usually doing these things in good humor and fun."

Lying his hands flat on the table, he said, "That's not my point."

"Then what is your point?"

"My point is, David is so much calmer. Blatantly said, he's rather shy." His statement was clearly spoken and civil, but Kris understood none of it. What was he trying to tell her? "And," he added with a sigh, ready to divulge his true thoughts, "do you know what he did to you?"

If she had been calm and mannerly previously, the next moments were ones of pure hostility and indignation. In a gesture of her inner rage, she slapped her hands down loudly upon the surface of the table and seethed, "Don't you dare speak another word."

"Why? So you can pretend that none of it ever happened? So you can hide it away somewhere deep inside of you where your superficial fury doesn't burn and act as though those events don't affect you?" He let out a grimacing chuckle and shook his head. "You're more like me than I realized."

Burning in utter rage, she shot daggers into him with her eyes and whispered in an effort to restrain her maddening fury, "Didn't I tell you to stop talking?"

"Kris, Kris," he muttered with a shake of his grey head, "has he told you everything? How he actually designed and manufactured the implants that inhibit any telepathic energy to enter into your mind? How he pumped I.V. after I.V. into your bloodstream to keep you stable long enough for the operation?" He paused and read her eyes. Clearly, he could see, she already knew, for her demeanor had not changed. Though, her anger was still growing. "Did he tell you anything else?"

"No, that's all he told me. That's all he remembered. That's all I care to know," she seethed in animosity.

Footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs, and Kris turned her head to the door. A feeling, almost like a wind streamed into the room through the cracks around the door that Kris could not see, but she felt it. She felt the presence of the one person, which she kept entirely to herself in the deepest and most private recesses of her soul. Never would she reveal to even the closest counterpart what she felt stream from him and around her, that special and unique aura. Turning back to Magneto, she whispered, "David's coming."

As the footsteps grew closer, Magneto leaned forward, closer to her and whispered in a manner to provoke thought and disbelief, "If he spoke nothing else to you, then I will. There's a reason I wiped him out of your memory, and you from his. Because for that time you were in my care, he broke a promise he made to me. He _spoke_ to you… and—"

But he never finished his secret discharge, for at that moment, the doorknob turned and the door opened. David stared in at Erik, then at Kris, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. She stood and paced to David, who smiled softly into her. Glancing at Erik, Kris frowned, and then she wrapped her arms around her friend, who embraced her in return, feeling somewhat unsure of the reason for the embrace.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a gentle whisper, looking down into her eyes. She sighed, breathing in the air around him before slowly nodding her head.

Jet appeared in the doorway behind them, and slowly entered the room with Caleb at his elbow. Glancing at his watch, Caleb said, "The train leaves in about twenty minutes. I suggest Phantom and Sidewinder make your way down there. I want to make sure you both get safely out of the city before I send Erik and Blacklight."

Looking up into Jet's eyes, Kris nodded with him, and reached out and grasped his hand. "Let's go, Sidewinder," she said, leading him out the door. As they reached the top of the stairs, she stopped and looked back at the doorway. "David," she called out, and he appeared in the doorway, looking confident but sad. They stared into each other for long, passing moments of silence, and then she swallowed nervously and said quietly and earnestly, "Be safe, David."

"You too," he replied almost inaudibly.

Her grip of Jet's hand tightened in anxiety. Gasping, on the brink of tears, she asked, "I'll see you soon?"

With an affectionate smile, he nodded and said, "Ja. I'll see you soon, Kris." With that, she turned and proceeded down the stairs with Jet, who put his arm around her waist as a solace of comfort.

* * *

"Hello, Erik," Cassidy greeted with a boisterous grin. Reaching out, he shook the man's hand, saying, "I didn't expect you back here so quickly. It's been, what, nineteen months since Belfast? What brings you back?" 

"Curiosity," Erik answered with a soft smile. By this time, Cassidy had lead Erik into an inner room of his underground compound, where they sat down at a set of sofas and recliners. Crossing his legs casually, Erik nonchalantly stated, "Word has it you've captured an X-Man. Is this true?"

"You don't miss a thing, my friend," Cassidy let out with a laugh. "Yes, I have. She's been with me for almost three days."

"Really?" Erik inquired with mock interest that felt honest. "Who is she? Anyone I know?"

"Perhaps," Cassidy replied, leaning forward on his recliner. "She's been with Xavier for about ten years, I think. Went through the school, and she teaches now. Goes by the alias, 'Sonic.' Have you heard of her?"

Thinking for a moment, Erik finally said, "The name sounds familiar, but it's difficult to tell. She can't be too important if I don't know who she is. But, since you've taken her on, she must be worth my interest. What's her story?"

Cassidy gazed into his counterpart's interested eyes for long, passing minutes, before leaning back and asking, "Why are you here, Erik? Business? Why would a petty little girl interest you so?"

Returning his stare with matching intensity, Erik smiled, the corners of his mouth curving downward slightly, and he answered, "Because word also has it that you are trying to get a hold of The Phantom. And I possess information that may lead you to her. You can choose whether or not you would like me to divulge it over to you, but it won't be free of charge." He paused as Cassidy's eyes slid downward in disinterest. "And, the X-Man was only mere curiosity. You know my history with Xavier."

Wagging a finger at him knowingly, Cassidy stood and went to a desk on the far end of the room. From the desktop, he retrieved a pile of newspaper clippings and magazine articles. Pacing back to Erik, he placed the articles on the coffee table between the two of them, and began to sift through them, showing each one in turn to Erik. "Look at this one," he said, holding out a German newspaper article with the headline reading: DAS PHANTOM KAM WIEDER (the Phantom has returned). And below the title was a photo of Kris all in costume of black and trench coat with her mask on her face. Her photograph stood at gunpoint of at least twenty German police officers in the middle of a crowded street. A smug grin played on her lips, and in her left hand she held a single rose.

Erik simply let out a small chuckle, one that rang in a sense of fatherly pride, and Cassidy cocked an eyebrow at him before continuing with a new article. "This one is the most recent," he stated, handing it over to Erik, who took it with interest. The article was titled, "THE PHANTOM IN THE U.S.?" And beneath it was a picture of Kris in the same costume, standing tall between the would-be executed David and the guards' pistols, again, a smug smile upon her lips. At second glance, Erik could see, that on a table near where David lie strapped down, lay a single, lonely rose, a black ribbon tied around its stem.

"I've been reading about this 'Phantom,' and I've learned some very interesting things. For example," Cassidy stated his excitement evident in the flare in his eyes, "at every place that she is sighted as The Phantom, she leaves a single red rose with a black ribbon tied in a bow around the stem."

Sifting through the many articles, Cassidy finally removed the cover of a magazine, which captured Kris's picture. The photograph of Kris was taken in Berlin, standing atop a massive Church. It had been zoomed in on her, poised next to a grey, stone angel. She wore the black boots and gloves with the black pants and shirt. But instead of a trench coat, she wore a long black cape that was caught in a draft of wind, the underside a blood-red color. Her mask was no longer the black cloth tied around the back of her head, but rather white, covering one half of her face just above her mouth.

Explaining the photograph, Cassidy said, "This was taken just after an unprecedented escape of thirty-three mutants from a 'mutant-control' facility just outside of Berlin. No doubt, she was involved in bringing about the escape. As a matter of fact, they found a rose lying on the chief facilitator's desk in his office at the facility. But her outfit changed slightly, to something far more proud and ominous. She has only been spotted wearing this costume two other times: once when she broke into a mutant-experimentation compound, where she freed and saved fourteen young children; the other time, she was seen praying inside a Church sanctuary in the middle of the night. The Church's priest claimed that he saw her lighting a candle beneath a statue of the Virgin Mary, and said she kneeled down on the floor where she began to weep and pray fervently, but when he approached her, she disappeared into the shadows." There was a silence before Cassidy said, "I believe that she only wears the 'special costume' when she is in the process of doing something of a serious or grave nature, or perhaps when she is accomplishing something of utmost importance."

Placing the magazine on the table with the rest of the articles, Erik nodded his head and said, "She's religious." Silence then ensued them for passing minutes, and Erik then let out a laugh and said, "She thinks she's some sort of Phantom of the Opera. No doubt, she loves theatre…and symbolism."

Nodding, Cassidy said, "I already have The Phantom within my grasp. She is on her way here right now, I daresay. You see, Sonic is simply bait to bring The Phantom willingly to me. Sonic, I have discovered, is The Phantom's childhood best friend."

"Really? That is interesting," Erik acted with a hand to his face in speculation. "So The Phantom used to be associated with Xavier."

"Not 'used to be', Erik, but is again," Cassidy corrected in subtle excitement, leaning forward in his seat. "It's my belief that she has befriended _David Forslund_. The man nearly executed a few weeks ago. Do you remember Blacklight?" His words were slanted and stressed, aiming at something Erik knew or did not know. "I'm interested to know if they are planning anything, the two of them. So, I've questioned Sonic many times, but she won't break."

Seeing his opportunity, Erik seized it and stated, "I've questioned Xavier's men more times than I can count. I know what to do. Let me speak with her."

"Very well," Cassidy conceded after a thoughtful moment. And he stood and led the way down a corridor and through several locked doors and passages. Finally, after several minutes, they reached a heavy door, made of solid steel, which seemed to absorb sound rather than echo it. Pushing in a series of numbers on a keypad next to the door, Cassidy smiled and waited as it opened from the inside. Erik surveyed the area, letting out incoherent coughs to test the sound rebounding on and through the walls before stepping into the room.

As they paced in, the lights began to switch on, bright florescent lights that shined off of the stainless steel, hurting the eyes. Shadows played across the floor, leading toward Tamiko, who sat bound in the metal chair. Erik's eyes met hers, and she scowled in disgust.

"I know you like to do these things alone, so I'm gonna step out for a minute. Notify me through the intercom on the wall when you've finished." Cassidy stated this with full confidence, exiting the room, the door clanging shut behind him.

Striding over to Tamiko, Erik stood above her, staring down her bruised and bloodied face. "Good afternoon, Tamiko," he greeted sternly and smoothly.

Smirking, Tamiko looked up at him and muttered, "Go screw yourself, Haoli."

Clicking his tongue, Erik said, "Oh, I don't appreciate the Hawaiian racial slurs, but if we're going to play it your way, Slant Eyes, then I would have to ask you to step down from your superiority-complex and listen to what I have to say." It happened in a matter of seconds. The cameras in the corners all switched off, the bindings holding Tamiko to the chair unlocked and David appeared from nowhere. "Get up," Erik said, pulling the beaten young woman from the seat and leading her to the door. "I don't have time to explain. The second this door opens, you need to use your mutation to get the hell out of here."

"What? I don't—"

"There's no time, Tamiko!" David interjected, striding up next to her. "You just need to do this, and you need to do it quickly."

"And you're taking Blacklight with you," Erik added. "You can do that, correct?"

She nodded meekly, her eyes wandering in confusion. "David, you'll have to hold on tight," Tamiko instructed in a barely audible voice. Grabbing his hands, she pulled him up behind her and forced his arms around her waist. He locked his fingers and pulled tightly next to her.

Leaning down in her ear, Erik put his hand next to the door and whispered, "Run…faster than you have ever run before." Then, the door pulled open silently, and Tamiko and David disappeared in a deafening burst of sonic energy.

* * *

Trudging forward through the snow, Caleb spied Kris sitting atop the hood of her truck, waiting patiently in the nighttime snow. A faint wind rustled her dirty-blonde hair softly on a cushion of air that swirled around her neck as she stared up at the grey-cloud sky in intimate thought. Caleb smiled. This was the Kris he had always remembered, one caught in a daydream of thought. Supporting a weak and fragile Tamiko, Caleb sported her around his shoulders and continued to fight his way heavily through the mellifluous snow. 

Spotting them as they maneuvered toward her, Kris started in long-held anxiety before jumping off the hood of the truck into the ankle-deep snow. Rushing to them, she embraced Tamiko, tears spilling over her cheeks. Tamiko placed exhausted arms around her friend's shoulders, her bruised head melting into the fabric of Kris's wool coat. Holding her tight, Kris looked into Caleb's grey eyes and graciously mouthed without a sound, "Thank you…" Smiling humbly, he kicked at the snow and shrugged her off with a feeble wave of his hand.

With strong hands, Caleb assisted Tamiko into the cabin of the truck where she sprawled across the seat, falling into an almost instant sleep. Kris watched her for long moments as she stood in the open door, her arms crossed over her chest for solace. Moving away from the truck, Caleb resolutely glanced back at Kris who surveyed him silently. Meekly, she reached out a hand to him, and he took it with gentle care and grace. "Caleb—I…" she stuttered, "…want to thank you for—"

"You're welcome," he whispered, bringing her mutterings to a halt. She stared longingly into him for long minutes, and he smiled in mild humor. "It was good to see you again, Phantom," he stated, nodding his head to her. As he turned to walk away, Kris mumbled his name and gripped his hand, turning him toward her. In a moment, she had her arms around him in an aching embrace. He held her close, his face in her hair, yearning for her. Her eyes closed tight, Kris leaned her forehead against his, and he slowly but surely brought his lips to hers. It was soft, warm kiss that lasted only seconds, and then Caleb drew away, falling out of her embrace.

Taking her hands into his, he whispered, "I have to go now. You should go too. Sonic needs more care than we can give her alone. Get her to a doctor." Nodding, Kris froze as he looked down at her nail-bitten fingertips. "I hope to see you again someday, Phantom," he stated with a warm smile. "Until then… goodbye." With that, he nodded to her in farewell, and turned away.

Kris watched him until he fell out of sight in the moonlit distance. And with an accepting nod of her head, she turned and climbed up into the driver's seat of the truck.

* * *

"Lie down, Tami," Kris instructed, helping her beaten friend onto a bed in a small motel room. Tamiko leant back onto a pillow with a weak groan of pain and weariness. Kris then went to the bathroom, where she retrieved a wet washcloth. Blotting the cloth onto her bloodstained skin, Kris sat down on the bed as Tamiko moved her head into her friend's lap. "We're only going to be here until sunrise. You need some rest." 

Her eyes closed against the soft light of the lamp, Tamiko snuggled up against Kris's stomach like a poor child and whispered, "How did you rent this motel room? What name did you use?"

Smiling in love, Kris ran her fingers through Tamiko's dark hair and said, "I used the name Jennifer…Kaneshige."

"But you're not Japanese," Tamiko let out in a meek whisper, her tone completely serious in her exhaustion.

"I said that my husband is," Kris explained patiently.

Nearly asleep, Tamiko asked, "What name did you use for me?"

"Tami, I didn't use your name for anything. He only needed mine," Kris replied. But Tamiko only let out a disgruntled wine from the back of her throat, a weak protest. Smiling in compassion, Kris finally came up with a quick lie, "Marie. I called you Marie."

"Marie what?"

Here, Kris paused and considered her friend who had opened her eyes and stared up curiously into Kris's face. "Jones," she finally answered. "You'll be Marie Jones for tonight."

"Okay, Jennifer." This was her friend's reply, though in a soft and somewhat muffled voice. As Tamiko fought the sleepiness that struggled to overcome her, Kris grew silent and grave, watching her best friend battle exhaustion with bruised and swollen eyes.

"Tamiko," she whispered after several minutes, her voice soft and humble. "I'm so sorry, Tamiko." Tears sparkled in her eyes and she continued to run her fingers soothingly through her hair.

"Kris, can I ask you a question?" Tamiko whispered this, her eyes shut with weariness. She let out a sigh and asked, "Do you really think Bobby is too tall for me?"

Laughing, Kris replied, "Of course not."

"Do you think Bobby would be happier with someone a bit taller?" Her question came with pure curiosity and concern.

Shaking her head, Kris leaned over and turned out the lamp. As the darkness filled the room, Tamiko drew closer to Kris for comfort and repeated her question. "You know what, Tamiko?" Kris replied in a whisper. "You're not the tallest person in the world. But Bobby loves you. I love you." A pause, and Kris then whispered ever so softly, "And we wouldn't want it any other way."


End file.
